Stormwater Retention Project
I always heard that the Pacific Northwest gets a lot of rain. Having lived in southern Louisiana for 25 years, I was a little skeptical. So when I moved here last year, to discover that all of the yards were brown, but the flowers and trees were flourishing, I became interested in the annual rain pattern. It doesn’t rain here in the summer. No thunderstorms twice a week. Nothing.
Water isn’t particularly expensive here, but I don’t like using clean tap water on plants. It turns out that most of Tacoma’s water comes from glaciers on Mount Rainier (Tahoma to natives). They melt naturally in the summer, so we aren’t using groundwater and have no control over their rate of melting.

We inherited a number of young fruit trees, which need a lot of water. Seeing how nice many of our neighbor’s yards were, we decided to collect plants. I watched water flowing out of the downspout during spring rains, flowing down the driveway into the street, and directly into Puget Sound. We installed a couple of rain barrels to collect some of it; you would be surprised how fast they fill during the light rains (compared to the Gulf coast) I’ve experienced here in Tacoma.
It turns out that Pierce County has a stormwater retention program, to prevent pollution of Puget Sound, and one can get free consultation on home projects that reduce storm runoff. There is even a competitive proposal system to get limited financial assistance. We jumped at the opportunity to contribute to the continued health of the place we’ve already fallen in love with.

The back yard was a basketball court at some point, complete with 3-4 inches of concrete. The previous owners removed the concrete (thank god!), but left some irregularly cut tree trunks. We were thinking about planting a garden in this area, but now we were part of something bigger than our back yard. We could get assistance on the whole project, from collecting rainwater to distributing it, and keeping it out of the pristine waters of Puget Sound.
But there were some engineering hurdles to clear…

We had to demonstrate that the soil under our back yard would absorb a reasonable amount of rainwater, which necessitated digging a hole and filling it with water. That sounds easy enough. The catch is that the soil in the hole has to be saturated before the test can be conducted. To assure saturation for all soil types, this means keeping a two-foot deep hole full of water for three hours. I had to keep the garden hose running at half-volume, tweaking it constantly, to meet this standard.
I spent the morning babysitting a one-foot-diameter hole with a hose running constantly.
But I kept the hole full for three hours. Finally, I could conduct the test. I filled the saturated soil to 12 inches and waited, but not for long! As I already knew, it drained in 17 minutes, as measured by a stopwatch. We have well-drained soil (mostly sand with some clay and rock cobbles).

While my garden hose kept the ground saturated, I kept myself busy, removing 4 inches of mulch filling the 4-inch deep depression left by the basketball court. I’m going to keep the material on-site as much as possible, to avoid hauling it up the slope seen to the right in this photo, where it would (please, god, no!) be spread to form a slight hump in my back yard.
You would be surprised how fast soil is used to fill a 4-inch deep area the size of the remaining mulch seen in this photo.
I can’t wait to begin digging the pond. I’ll see you then.
Ecology Notes on Flaming Geyser State Park

This is my last post from Flaming Geyser State Park. I discussed the geology and the sights in previous posts. Today I’m going to look at some of the highlights in a riparian ecosystem that seems to be recovering from excessive logging; however, the area has been in private hands for more than a century, which allowed the maturing forest we find today to develop.

This paper birch (or red alder) caught my eye because of the bunches of small branches growing from the bark at different heights. ChatGPT says these are epicormic sprouts, areas where dormant stems wait for more sun or, possibly, stress to the tree.

Himalayan Blackberry and Trailing Blackberry (with flowers) along the trail.

Big leaf maple covered with moss mounds on (probably) epicormic mounds, which have collected over the years but weren’t active; or else the new growth has died back.

Douglas fir resting on the nurse stump where it grew from a seed. I’ve often seen examples of this phenomenon with roots projecting every which way, but this fir seems to have timed its growth perfectly with decay of the host.

This photo shows me standing among a bunch of bushes. That’s how much I know about botany. So I asked ChatGPT what plants it could identify. It came up with a long list: Douglas fir and Bigleaf maple; Salmonberry, elderberry, and maple seedlings; English ivy, Sword fern, stinging nettle, and a variety of mosses. It pointed out that this stretch of the trail doesn’t reveal any Himalayan blackberry, which means that this is a natural ecosystem for the PNW.
Final Thoughts
Flaming Geyser State Park represents a classic riparian ecosystem in the PNW. It has been invaded by Himalayan blackberry, but the native plants seem to be holding their own…for now.
Flaming Geyser State Park

The park is located at the upstream end of Green River, where it enters a gorge. This is one of the best places I’ve seen anywhere for taking a stroll through nature; the path is moist but not muddy, and well trimmed, with breathtaking natural scenes like this. A veritable Garden of Eden. This post is an overview of the park; I discuss the geology and flora in other posts.

With a name like that, I’m expecting a spectacular show…

I’ll summarize what you can read if you zoom in on the information presented in this billboard. An exploratory well was drilled here about 100 year ago, looking for coal–they found it, along with methane (natural gas) and other gases produced by decaying vegetation at several hundred feet below the surface. The small well produced a flammable gas that has burned intermittently since it was first lit by a geologist.

Flaming geyser wasn’t very active when we visited, but it was burning. To repeat, this is NOT a natural seep, but the result of a well drilled a century ago. Nevertheless it has become a local tradition, and it is relit whenever it goes out.
Bubbling geyser is a lot more fun. This video shows small bubbles of methane, as well as hydrogen sulfide and other, unnamed, gases. Methane is odorless, but this area smelled strongly of H2S, which is added to natural gas to help detect leaks.

This is a beautiful example of survival. The surface roots have all been exposed by erosion, but the tree is thriving; its roots have turned into separate trunks. I read somewhere that these conifers in the PNW send their roots out for hundreds of feet, far beyond their canopies.

This is where Green River Valley turns into Green River Gorge. The water was perfectly clear, with a slight green tinge, even though there is no algae visible. It reminds me of Commencement Bay, which is also devoid of aquatic plants. And it is all natural, simply a unique ecosystem.

If you wear waders, you can walk on water here.
Final Thoughts
This is a place you have to visit for yourself, especially on such a gorgeous summer day. The temperature was in the mid-seventies, the sky was clear, and people were filling the huge number of picnic areas, carrying their supplies and tubes, ready for a fun day of floating down one of the best rivers I’ve ever seen.
You’ve got to see it for yourself.
Eocene Continental Sediments in Flaming Geyser State Park

Figure 1. Flaming Geyser State Park is located along the Green River (see Fig. 2 for location), where its valley narrows and deepens. This photo shows a typical gravel stream, but there is plenty of sand and even clay available to construct a flood plain. The alluvial deposits downstream are rich farmland, where we saw a variety of vegetables growing.

Figure 2. (A) Location of the study area SE of Tacoma in the foothills of the Cascade Range. (B) Green River has eroded a valley in the glacial till and bedrock along its path. The northern margin is steeper throughout its length. Flaming Geyser State Park is located upstream of the arable land, where the river becomes rocky and the valley narrows to a gorge. (C) The geologic map from Rock D reveals Eocene (56-33.9 Ma) continental sedimentary rocks along the stream bed whereas further north, Vashon till of Pleistocene age (2.58Ma – 11.7 Ka) covers the region in a thinning-eastward blanket. Just south of the river itself, Quaternary (2.58 Ma – Recent) fluvial and alluvial sediments have accumulated.
To the extreme east side of (C), a fault line can be seen running N-S. Faults are common, but often difficult to identify, within the region because the Cascades are the result of oceanic-crust subduction beneath the North American tectonic plate.

Figure 3. These layers of Eocene terrestrial sedimentary rocks have been tilted eastward (to the right), towards the fault seen in Fig. 2C, suggesting that it is a normal fault; however, their beds aren’t quite continuous, suggesting some slippage between them. The patches of foliage separating them may indicate minor faults, where the rock is ground into fine material suitable for plants to thrive. For example, the leftmost exposure is similar in stratification to the middle strata of the center exposure; the rightmost exposure doesn’t seem to be continuous with either, except for the thin, resistant bed immediately below the cliff on the right, and a similar “marker” bed a few feet lower in the middle exposure.
Following a horizontal line between them, the rocks are younger to the left, but not by much–possibly a few thousand years. This brittle deformation would have occurred a few miles within the surface when the faults were active; unfortunately, faults cannot be dated with precision.

Figure 4. This is an interesting sample, which required some thinking, and a conversation with ChatGPT, to arrive at the most plausible explanation for the irregular blobs of darker material protruding from a reddish matrix. I’m pretty sure this texture arose from mingling of magmas with different compositions: the reddish one is andesite, and the darker material is something closer to basalt (there is a spectrum of chemical compositions); they were incompatible, but the magma wasn’t hot enough to totally incorporate the more basaltic material into the andesite.
We are seeing magmatic mixing processes frozen in time here.

Figure 5. This photo reveals a cliff of Eocene sedimentary rocks across the river, probably 100 yards distant. I zoomed in to reveal the bedding. I estimate the height of the gray rock visible through the foliage to be at least thirty feet. The lower section contains two sets of cross-bedding, separated by an erosional surface, brought into relief by differential weathering. These large bed forms were created by water, probably in braided rivers or high-energy channels. The flow was to the left, westward in general.
This environment persisted for a long time although these rocks can’t be dated (no fossils or organic material); if we assume either a deposition rate of 1/8 inch per year (that’s a lot of sand), or a subsidence rate of similar magnitude (to make room for this stack of sand), we can estimate how long it took for 30 feet of sand dunes to accumulate. When we do the math, we see that this section could have been created in about 3000 years. This calculation is for illustration only. We don’t know the actual sedimentation rate here during the Eocene, nor do we know the amount of erosion.

Figure 6. This photo from the south side of Green River shows some highly fractured rock beneath a stronger layer that forms a one-foot overhang. The overlying rock is staining the subjacent layers with a rust-colored material, probably from weathering of iron-containing minerals. Are these beds equivalent to those from Fig. 3?
I don’t know the answer, but the contact revealed in this photo is similar to that between the massive, cliff-forming rock from the rightmost exposure in Fig. 3, and the lower, gray layers. I wouldn’t be surprised if this rock is similar in age and environment as the gray rocks across the river.
Final Thoughts
Sometime, more than thirty-million years ago, large rivers drained the Cascades, depositing vast quantities of sand in braided rivers many miles from the coast, where finer sands and silt slid down submarine canyons and fans to be deposited as turbidites. I talked about those rocks in a previous post. Comparison of these rocks and those along the Olympic Peninsula coast allow us to reconstruct this small part of the world from a bygone age.
These Eocene sediments are similar to those we discovered a few miles to the south, along the Carbon River. This sedimentary environment wasn’t a local event, but rather part of a regional system that continuously removed the volcanoes and older rocks that were exposed by the upward pressure of the Pacific Ocean’s subducting slab. This was not an intermediate environment.
The wide range in dates for these rocks doesn’t allow geologists to be more specific than a few million years, but the earth doesn’t act very quickly, especially when the subduction zone that determines the geology of the PNW has been active for almost 200 million years.
We can afford uncertainties of a few tens of millions of years…

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