Decaying hotel, Nerantza, Greece

Greece has attracted tourists for centuries. In the 1800s, well-to-do young Brits visited Greece as part of their almost-obligatory continental tour. Some Philhellenes, like Lord Byron, lost their lives in the revolution when Greece freed itself from Ottoman domination. (From Wikipedia: Philhellenism ("the love of Greek culture") was an intellectual fashion prominent at the turn of the 19th century, that led Europeans like Lord Byron or Charles Nicolas Fabvier to advocate for Greek independence from the Ottoman Empire.) By the late 1800s, foreign archaeologists were combing the countryside, excavating ancient sites.

The early 20th century was rough on tourism. Greece suffered dictatorship, the Balkan Wars, World War I, World War II, and the brutal civil war, during which almost 20 percent of the population perished. Finally, with the advent of the Truman Doctrine and the defeat of the communist forces, Greece slowly pulled itself out of poverty and began to rebuild. Adventurous tourists came in the 1950s, and Greek builders began to erect big box hotels to attract the mass-market crowd in the 1960s.

This example is a hotel in the town of Nerantza (Νεράντζα), a farming and vacation village about 15 km west of Corinth on the south shore of the Gulf of Corinth.


I suppose it was a necessary economic step, but the 1960s and 1970s were a rough phase in Greece's architectural and cultural history. Mass market tourists cared little for archaeology and culture, but were drawn by cheap lodgings, sun, beer, wine, and sex.


The hotel has been deserted since well before 1992, when I first visited Nerantza. A relative remembers when he taught water-skiing to tourists here in the 1960s.


I remember these hotels: drafty, echoey, and charmless. As late as the 1970s, you had to find out when the hot water would be on, but you could always have a cold shower. The bathrooms were a wet mess after a shower. They were damaging to the environment because often they overwhelmed the local sewage treatment systems, and excess runoff ran into the sea. Tourists used far more water than local inhabitants.

This was the kitchen. Breakfast was a boring affair with a mandatory two pieces of bread (yesterday's leftovers?), a piece of pound cake, Nescafe, orange drink, and a certain number of grams of butter. The government must have established this as a minimum standard for all hotels. No delicious, crusty peasant bread at these establishments.

Here was a pool, even though the sea was across the street.

The problem with this hulk is no developer wants to pay for demolition, and the architecture is unsuited for contemporary hotel use. The United States is not the only country where commercial structures are abandoned, leaving the municipality (and taxpayers) to deal with demolition and environmental issues.

Nerantza must have experienced a building boom in the 1960s because there are a number of unfinished concrete frames along the main road. Did tourists lose interest? Was the setting not glamorous enough for a resort? With the completion of the high-speed rail link to Athens, the town is becoming a popular place for vacation and year-round homes. Farm fields are disappearing, to be replaced by concrete.

All photographs taken with an Olympus E-330 digital camera and Olympus 14-54 mm f/2.8 lens.

The Country Store, Farnham, Virginia

Farnham is a small farming town in the tidewater region of Virginia, located on the peninsula between the Potomac and Rappahannock Rivers. This area has been settled for three centuries, and 1800s farm houses attest to the farming heritage. You still see rich fields of barley and corn.

This is an old country store. A long-time local resident told me Farnham was prosperous in the 1950s and 1960s when a tomato factory was active and hired many local workers. The factory closed and the town fell asleep. The store would have sold gasoline, groceries, and odds and ends to residents in the old days.

But the store has a new life. A lady from the Washington area retired to Farnham and bought the store and the adjacent house. The store is a perfect place for a party!

A Gulf sign from the gas station era.

I remember seeing steel chairs like these at old resorts in New England.

The back shed had the most interesting bits and pieces.


The main room looks great. This a nice way to revive an old building.

All photographs taken with a Fuji F31fd digital camera.

Mississippi Valley and Yazoo Railroad Depot, Vicksburg, Mississippi

First the flood came, then the media came, and they photographed the poor, forlorn Yazoo and Mississippi Valley RR Station with water up to the first floor windows. Possibly this scene will became symbolic of the great flood of 2011. Fortunately, the water is receding and workmen, who were restoring the depot, can dry out the first floor and clean out mud and muck and eject a few snakes.


The depot, completed in 1907, is a handsome brick building on Levee Street, located just north of the concrete floodwall at the base of Grove Street. It was designed by the Chicago architectural firm of Daniel Burnham & Co. (We are not sure if Burnham himself designed the building, but he was well-known for his seminal designs of the Chicago waterfront and parks and the monumental buildings of the World's Columbian Exposition). Because of its location, the Vicksburg depot was vulnerable to exceptionally high water, and the first floor was flooded in the great 1927 flood.

In the early 20th century, rail service ran north-south at least as far as Greenville and possibly to Memphis. I believe passengers along the east-west line (heading east to Jackson or west to Monroe, Dallas, etc) would have boarded trains at another depot just off the Cherry Street bridge. Passenger rail service in Vicksburg ended in 1959. I do not know who owned the Levee Street station over the decades. The ground floor had been used by various companies or activities but was also empty for years at a time. Remodeling removed almost all traces of authentic walls or features , so I did not take photographs in these areas. In the 1990s, a kidney dialysis company leased space here. But when remodeling began recently, a stationmaster's office or control room of some sort became exposed.

The second floor provided more of interest to an urban archaeologist. The stairs to the second floor were reasonably intact and still had their deep varnish. I have seen this time and time again: varnished wood has been painted, and after a few years, the paint looks nasty, but areas where the varnish was left original, it looks perfect.


At the top of the stairs, a long hall runs along the east side of the building. Turn left and it leads to a ladies' lavatory.


The lavatory retained some of its original features, including granite stall walls and handsome varnished stall doors.


Turn right, and the hall led to a office or work room with some of its original trim.

About 15 years ago, there were two apartments on the third floor. The tenants in one unit let me come up and access the flat part of the roof to take some photographs. Back then, it was still a bit odd to live downtown and must have been nice and quiet at night. The photograph above shows what is left of one of the attic apartments.

The window shows the view up Grove Street. I am not sure what will be done with the third floor in the current renovation. Fireproof steel stairs have been installed at both ends of the building to comply with fire codes. It is a lovely building, and I am glad it will be used as the Vicksburg Transportation Museum. Please come and visit.

Finally, this postcard from the Cooper collection at Mississippi Department of Archives and History, shows the view of the railroad depot and the Yazoo Canal from the roof of the First National Bank building.

Here is another postcard showing Washington Street with the depot to the left. Vicksburg was a bustling industrial and commercial city then. How did it decline so badly in the latter half of the 20th century?

High Water along the Atchafalaya and Mississippi Rivers, May 2011

As I described in the previous article, the Atchafalaya River carries 30 percent of the combined flow of the Mississippi and Red Rivers. In times of flood, more than 30 percent may have to be diverted to prevent levees being overtopped in Baton Rouge and New Orleans.


One of the towns subject to high water is Melville, Louisiana. The first photograph shows the landing for the former Melville-Pointe Coupee ferry service, which permanently closed in December 2010. Dump trucks were rumbling past to a site just south of the landing, where the levee was being elevated. The second photograph shows how high the water was under the railroad bridge, 14 May 2011.


Morgan City is a historic town near the Gulf of Mexico mouth of the Atchafalaya. Having suffered from many floods in the past, the Corps of Engineers built a levee and floodwall system around the town in 1926. The concrete floodwall is a popular tourist attraction because you can look down on the Atchafalaya on one side and down on the historic city on the other. Normally there are a boardwalk and docks on the river side, but this time, the river was well above the base of the floodwall (15 May). The bridge in the background is US 90


Finally, New Orleans. The levees have been reinforced since Hurricane Katrina and raised in some areas. Along the French Quarter, the levees were well above the water level, even under conditions of the 2011 flood. For tourists, it was a great opportunity to be photographed next to Ol' Man River (or The Big Muddy).

(Photographs taken with an Olympus E-330 camera and Olympus 14-54mm f/2.8 lens)

Where does the Water Go? The Old River Control Structures, Louisiana

Introduction.  The 2011 Mississippi River flood brought the news media to towns like Memphis, Vicksburg, and Natchez. But although they showed photographs of wet homes, they did a shallow coverage of the river, its flow, and water control, and explaining what happens to the water and sediment and why our economy depends critically on this control. It is a complicated topic, but I will try to summarize why the US Army Corps of Engineers built and operates major hydraulic structures at Old River, Louisiana, and show some photographs.

Mississippi River drainage area (from US Army Corps of Engineers). Pink shows the area protected by the Mississippi River &Tributaries Project

Background. "The Mississippi River has the third largest drainage basin in the world, exceeded in size only by the watersheds of the Amazon and Congo Rivers. It drains 41 percent of the 48 contiguous states of the United States. The basin covers more than 1,245,000 square miles, includes all or parts of 31 states and two Canadian provinces, and roughly resembles a funnel which has its spout at the Gulf of Mexico. Waters from as far east as New York and as far west as Montana contribute to flows in the lower river." (from US Army Corps of Engineers).

Before the mid-1800s, the Red River joined the Mississippi about 45 miles northwest of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, at latitude 31.1 degrees north. By definition, the Red was a tributary because it added its water to the main river. Just a short distance to the south, some water diverted off the main channel into the Atchafalaya River, which carried the flow to the Gulf of Mexico. Therefore, the Atchafalaya was a distributary because it carried water away from the main channel.

From US Army Corps of Engineers

In the early 1800s, the Atchafalaya only carried a small percentage of the total flow because it was clogged with immense rafts of logs and debris. But starting in the mid-1800s, the Corps of Engineers and State of Louisiana methodically cleared the logs to open up the channel for navigation and commercial development. Clearing log jams on Western rivers was one of the Corps' earliest civil works missions.

By the early 20th century, the Atchafalaya had been cleared and dredged to create a Federal navigation project. Dredging continued to improve navigation. But, a serious problem developed: during the early years of the 20th century, the Atchafalaya channel naturally scoured (became deeper) and proceeded to capture an ever greater percentage of the Mississippi's total flow. The reason was geological: The distance from Old River to the Gulf of Mexico via the present river channel past Baton Rouge and New Orleans and ending at the present Balize delta was about 300 miles, while the distance along the Atchafalaya waterway was only 140 miles. This meant the new route was steeper and therefore more efficient. From 1880-1950, the percentage of Mississippi water flowing down the Atchafalaya increased from 7 to over 25 percent, and river hydrologists predicted that by the 1970s, the Atchafalaya would capture almost all the flow (Reuss, 2004). Under natural conditions, this type of channel shifting occurred about every 1000 years, but for a modern industrial economy, such a shift would have disastrous economic consequences.

Consider what might happen: New Orleans would lose its fresh water supply. The many petrochemical plants and the nuclear power plant on the river between Baton Rouge and New Orleans would lose water supply. It might be close to impossible - or vastly expensive - to maintain a deep-draft navigation channel suitable for ocean-going vessels to reach Baton Rouge. Note: Baton Rouge is now a deep-draft port, meaning one suitable for ocean-going vessels. The reason this is possible is the scouring action of the Mississippi flow, which flushes much of the sediment load out to sea, leaving a deep channel.

In the 1954 Flood Control Act, Congress authorized the Corps of Engineers to build structures to control the flow of water down the Atchafalaya. The Act also authorized future appropriation for navigation locks. The flow was to be maintained at 30 percent of the total at that latitude. This is complicated to compute because it includes the input from both the Mississippi and Red Rivers. Therefore, the diversion from the main trunk of the Mississippi is somewhat less than 30 percent, depending on how much water is coming down the Red. The following figure shows what Congress intended.

From US Army Corps of Engineers

Presently, "The Old River Control project consists of several large engineering structures. These structures include the Old River Low Sill and Overbank Structures that began operation in 1962; the Old River Lock completed in 1963; and the Auxiliary Structure built in 1986." (From US Army Engineer District, New Orleans, web page.) The lock is necessary because often the Red and Mississippi are at different levels, and the lock lets barges transit from one river to the other. Adding to this complex, in 1990, the Sidney A. Murray, Jr. Hydroelectric Station was built to generate electricity using turbines.

Photographs.  Driving south on Louisiana 15, which follows the levee along the west side of the Mississippi, the road crosses a bridge at the Sidney Murray station, then crosses the Overbank Structure, and finally reaches the Low Sill Structure.

Upstream side of the Sidney A. Murray hydroelectric plant. This 2009 photograph was taken at low water. The intakes for the turbines are way below the water level and there is little to see for the casual visitor..

The downstream side of the Overbank Structure at low water on January 19, 2009.

One of the bays in the Overbank Structure. During floods, wood boards or batons can be lifted one by one to control the flow of water. In the 2011 flood, leakage past the boards amounted to about 50,000 cubic feet per second (cfs).

Downstream side of the Low Sill Structure, 14 May, 2011, with flow of approx. 200,000 cfs.

The upstream side on the Low Sill structure. Water this high is a very rare event; it may be decades before we see it as high again. During the flood of 1973, a great scout hole formed on the south side of the structure (the far side in this photograph). Engineers feared the structure might collapse, which would have led to the abrupt switching of water flow down the Atchafalaya waterway. If this had happened, a new structure could have been built in summer, when the water was low, but it would have been technically difficult and very expensive. Congress would have had to appropriate emergency funds. Months of excess flow down the Atchafalaya waterway would have caused many economic, sedimentological, and environmental consequences.

The vertical panels are the gates. A crane moves along a track, and the operators raise or lower the panels into the concrete slots in the dam. The amount of water is controlled by how high the panels are above the concrete bottom. Water flowing along the bottom of the concrete channel flushes sediment through the system into the outlet canal and, ultimately, into the Atchafalaya.

The next structure to the south is the Auxiliary Structure. This was built after the 1973 flood almost destroyed the Low Sill Structure and engineers realized that that another structure was needed to channel some of the water to the Atchafalaya. Construction began in 1981 and was completed in 1986.

Downstream side of the Auxiliary Structure, 14 May 2011.

One of the the six tainter gates. These are steel arches fixed to trunnion blocks and lifted by steel cables. In this photograph, the gates are up 23 ft, resulting in total flow of 230,000 cfs. These gates can be controlled more precisely than the rectangle steel panels used in the Low Sill Structure.

The operators have to coordinate with the hydroelectric plant to adjust the water flow through all the structures. On May 19, the Mississippi was flowing at about 2,000,000 cfs, so the hydro plant, Overbank, Low Sill, and Auxiliary released about 600,000 cfs to the Atchafalaya, maintaining the 30/70 percent ratio.

Wood and flotsom get jammed up against the gates, and the raft often contains some interesting cargo. The cables hold up the gates and go up into the structure to heavy-duty electric winches.


The morning I visited, the gate operators and a ranger hoisted up a boar that had gotten stuck on the log raft. They said they were going to feed him corn for a few weeks. Sounds like an upcoming BBQ and plenty of bacon.

References

For a long but engaging description of the topic, I suggest a February 23, 1987 New Yorker article by John McPhee titled "The Control of Nature, Atchafalaya": Control of Nature

A shorter summary was written by Alexis Madrigal for a May 19, 2011 article in The Atlantic:
What We've Done

For a more scholarly treatment: Reuss, M. 2004. Designing the Bayous, The Control of Water in the Atchafalaya Basin, 1800-1995. Texas A&M University Press, College Station, TX, 474 p.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to New Orleans District Corps of Engineers and the operators of the Old River Control Structure for hosting tour groups from the Waterways Experiment Station in 2009 and 2011. We appreciate the time they took to show us around.