Showing posts with label slope failures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label slope failures. Show all posts

Friday, August 20, 2021

The Other California: Catch it While You Can, the Devil's Slide

California is nothing if not audacious. Our state possesses so many incredible landscapes known throughout the world: alpine mountain ranges, volcanoes, deserts, and of course the legendary California coastline. The coastline in particular has garnered a lot of attention over the years to the extent that roadbuilders tried to provide vehicular access to practically all of it. There are only a few short stretches of coast, especially in the north state, where wilderness reigns instead of highways. Highway 1 is a spectacular engineering feat for better or worse, providing some of the most astounding views a driver could ever hope to see.

But this incredible feat of engineering didn't come without serious costs and continuing hazards. Hardly a year goes by in which some portion of Highway 1 isn't shut down by mudflows and landslides. The Big Sur section of the coast has been especially hard hit in recent years. But there is one part of the highway that we Californians constantly heard about in the news, but not any longer. It just sort of disappeared from the public consciousness. It's a section between Pacifica and Half Moon Bay called the Devil's Slide.

One needs only to look at the Google Earth image (above) to see the insanity of trying to build and maintain a road across the coastal cliffs here. The near total lack of vegetation is an immediate clue to the instability. A closer look at the geology of the rocks exposed in the cliff reveals a complex mess. To the right is the bold cliff labeled on the map below as Devil's Slide, although that particular rock is not the source of the problem. It's a relatively coherent intrusive complex called the Granitic Rock of Montara Mountain. The unit consists of granite and quartz diorite, which to most humans looks like granite. It formed about 86 to 93 million years ago as part of the Sierra Nevada batholith. Being found along the coast, it seems a bit out of place, and it truly is. It was sliced off the south end of the Sierra Nevada by the San Andreas fault system and transported several hundred miles north at the furious rate of about 2 inches per year. 

The problem child of this geologic mess is the gray colored unit labeled Tss on the geologic map below. It is an unnamed sequence of sandstone, shale, and conglomerate of Paleocene age, from around 55-60 million years ago, just after the great extinction that wiped out the non-avian dinosaurs and many other species. These weakly consolidated sedimentary rocks have been severely deformed and sheared by nearby fault zones into a jumbled mass of unstable blocks prone to sliding. The main slide surface is about 150 feet beneath the surface, and the entire unstable block is 4,000 feet long, and as much as 900 feet high.

It was a treacherous slope, but engineers (well-educated or not) love a challenge. The first attempt at building a road came in the late 1800s when a road was carved about 100 feet above the present trail. Landslides and slope failures soon commenced, and by 1914 the road was abandoned in favor of a winding route on the other side of San Pedro Mountain (which serves today as a fire lane). 

Then the railroad designers took their turn, putting in a railway on the lower part of the cliff in the early 1900s. The slopes disagreed with the railway, and the tracks were abandoned by 1920 (the 1906 earthquake did not help). Then in 1936, the roadbuilders were ready to try again. Highway 1 was being constructed along much of the Central Coast of California, and the engineers decided they simply must have a highway across the Devil's Slide. It was finished in 1937.
The problems of course began right away. Slope failures caused major closures of the highway, in some instances for days, in others weeks, and in 1995, five months. Numerous fixes were proposed, but most would have caused severe environmental disruptions in the marine ecosystem below, and unwanted urban growth above (an improved and widened freeway would have brought commuters to Half Moon Bay). So the status quo continued (fix the breaks and keep the damaged road open as much as possible). Driving the highway was an exhilarating and bumpy experience, and for geologists it was a frustrating adventure because there was no safe place to stop and study the geology of this fascinating case study in slope failure. 

Another solution gained steam in the early 2000s: a tunnel bypass. What was proposed were two single lane tunnels underneath San Pedro Mountain. At 4,000 feet each, they would be among the longest of tunnels in California, and would end up costing 'only' a third of a billion dollars. The Tom Lantos Tunnels were completed in 2013, and the transportation saga of traversing the Devil's Slide appeared to be over. 
So what to do with the old highway? It could have simply been abandoned like the nearby WWII defense installations, but a better idea emerged: convert the old highway into a hiking trail. San Mateo County took over the property and converted the highway into a 1.3 mile long hiking and biking trail, complete with parking at both ends, restrooms, and a series of useful interpretive signs. It opened in 2014, but I didn't get a chance to explore it until last week.
The paved trail was in excellent condition. Maybe the lack of heavy truck traffic eases some of the pressure on the slope. There are great exposures of the rocks on the mountain side, and glorious ocean views on the cliff side. More than 150 bird species have been observed along the trail since its opening in 2014, but there is the potential for many more as birders have access that wasn't possible prior to the construction of the tunnels.
The trail also offers some close-up examples of slope mitigation methods as well. A section of the cliff has been covered in a metal mesh to prevent boulders from injuring people. 

One might argue that this locality is not in the spirit of "The Other California", since it has been a famous section of Highway 1 for many decades, but it's only been the last few years that anyone could actually walk and study this fascinating spot, and only a relative few people know about the trail. If you visit the Bay Area it is well worth a visit.

But you might consider doing it soon! There is less stress on the slope from heavy traffic, but the fundamentals of the slide are still in place, and it can't be predicted when new damage might occur...

For the park brochure and trail map of the Devil's Slide Trail, use this link:

DSTrailBrochure-Nov2018-FINAL-web-formatted.pdf (smcgov.org)

For a geology road trip along the coast south of San Francisco check out this link:

Microsoft Word - chapter8.doc (usgs.gov)

For engineering details on the slide, check out the following USGS Bulletin:

USGS Bulletin 2188, chapter 7

For a geologic map that covers the slide area, check out:

Microsoft Word - smgeo.doc (usgs.gov)

USGS Open-File Report 98-137

Monday, September 9, 2013

Into the Great Unknown: A Gigantic Failure Produces One of the Most Beautiful Sights in the Grand Canyon

We continued down the Colorado River, the "Great Unknown" as it was called by John Wesley Powell during the first boat trip through the Grand Canyon in 1869. In the last post, I mentioned that we passed through the narrowest channel in the entire canyon, a spot in the Granite Narrows where the river is 76 feet across and more than 100 feet deep. I didn't mention why this spot just happened to be so narrow. The story of how it got this way touches on our next pull-out at Deer Canyon Falls, and on Yosemite Falls in a totally different national park back in my home state.
In my youth, I used to drive up San Antonio Canyon in the San Gabriel Mountains, and my poor little VW Bug had trouble surmounting a big ridge called the Hogback. It was a gigantic rockslide that had forced the creek into the cliff, where the river was forced to erode a granite slot canyon in an otherwise debris-filled floodplain.
I found out that the narrowest channel in the Grand Canyon formed in much the same way! It turns out that if you stack thousands of feet of sediments onto a plain that then rises to become a plateau, and carve a deep canyon into it, it will turn out that some layers will fail due to the weakness of the rock and form gigantic rotational slides. At Granite Narrows these large rotated blocks blocked the flow of the Colorado, forming a temporary dam and causing the river to establish a new channel in the hard rocks of the Granite Gorge Metamorphic Suite. Because the channel is newer, it has not had time to widen as much as older parts of the canyon.
The picture above shows the Granite Narrows from the vicinity of Deer Creek Falls, with a portion of the Surprise Valley slide on the left side above the river. It also turns out that the landslides in the area had another unexpected result.
Deer Creek Falls sits at or near the top of a list of the most beautiful sights along the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. The creek seems to burst out of the canyon wall, falling a hundred feet or so onto the river shore (during periods of highest flooding, the waterfall tumbles directly into the Colorado). It was truly a stunning sight as it became visible around a turn in the river. We pulled out to have a closer look.
We took the very steep and hot trail that climbed out of the Granite Gorge and into the Tapeats Sandstone where Deer Creek has carved what may be the most incredible narrows in Grand Canyon.
The trail clings to a ledge midway up the cliff in the narrows, and it includes a couple of hair-raising steps around protruding rocks (it's on the right side in the picture below). A slip here would incur a very uncomfortable drop of 50 feet or more.
As you make your way up the gorge, it begins to dawn on you that this canyon is very narrow compared to others in the Inner Canyon, despite the rather high permanent flow of Deer Creek (the creek is fed by a large spring complex just upstream). A relatively large stream like Deer Creek ought to have been able to erode a much wider canyon. Even stranger is the relative lack of erosion at the falls. Shouldn't a stream like Deer Creek be able to erode at least some of the way through the hard metamorphic rocks? Literally every other tributary canyon has managed to do so.
The narrows are just gorgeous. I had seen a picture of them in a book when I was a teenager, and I had been wishing to hike them in real life for a long time. I was in a sort of walking dream just being there.
We could hear the water pouring through the canyon below us, but it took awhile before we could actually see it. 
The canyon started to open up a bit, and we could see cottonwood trees upstream. We were reaching the top of the Tapeats Sandstone and the lower reaches of the Bright Angel Shale.
 The creek was at trail level. Soaking and splashing time! It was a hot day and a hot hike...
I later came to realize what should have been obvious. The narrows were there because Deer Creek was younger than the other tributaries along the Colorado. Deer Creek Falls are there for the same reason. The canyon hasn't existed as long as the others. But why?

It boils down to the same reason that the canyon is so narrow just upstream. Landslides (slope failures) filled the ancestral Deer Creek Canyon, forcing the stream into a new channel. The diversion happened recently enough that the creek has only carved through the relatively soft Tapeats Sandstone, and hasn't really begun carving into the harder metamorphic rocks.
So it turns out that one of the most beautiful places in the Grand Canyon was the result of failure. A giant slope failure. Mass wasting, a term that encompasses all of the different kinds of slope failures and landslides, was a main tool in the carving of the Grand Canyon. The Colorado River cut downwards, while mass wasting widened the gorge, as it is still doing today.
What does this have to do with Yosemite Falls out in California? Like Deer Creek Falls, Yosemite Falls looks too "young". Yosemite Creek has not carved much of a channel at the top of the falls, which spill over a 1,425 foot high vertical cliff. It turns out that the present day falls are young, too, the result of an Ice Age glacier that diverted and blocked the old Yosemite Creek channel. You can see the older channel to the left of the modern-day falls in the picture below. It is the route of the Yosemite Falls trail today.

After our incredible journey through the narrows of Deer Creek, we got back on the river and rode through Doris Rapid. Although only rated class 3, it was the splashiest ride in a few days. We set up camp at the base of the rapid. Under a steep overhanging cliff...
Lava Falls Rapid was two days away....

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The San Timoteo Badlands: Where'd All That Mud Come From?

A small postscript to our journey these holidays that took us across the southwest. We seemed to be chasing the intense, even if not totally unusual storms that left a mess of mud everywhere. As we drove along State Highway 60 between Banning and Moreno Valley, I noticed one of the reasons that mud appeared in at least some places. It doesn't always involve areas that have been burned in wildfires. Sometimes the slopes are unstable to start with, especially in badlands topography.

The San Timoteo Badlands are an underappreciated bit of Southern California scenery. Most people see the hills at 65 mph (as we did; these shots from Mrs. Geotripper are from a fast moving car, and she deserves credit just for getting a couple of clear ones!). The hills are composed of Pliocene and early Pleistocene terrestrial sediments. The loosely consolidated sedimentary rocks preserve a rich record of life from about 3.5 million to 700,000 years, including a cache of more than 1,000 bones from the excavations for a power station earlier this year, including camels, horses, giant ground sloths, and sabertooth cats.
The rocks were stressed and deformed by movements of the nearby San Jacinto fault, one of the most active in California, and were uplifted into the rugged hills between Redlands and Moreno Valley. The rapid uplift and steep hillsides lead to slope failure, lots of it. Though surrounded by intense urban development, the badlands remain wild because there is no good way to build a stable foundation on such weak rocks. Around 8,000 landslides are mapped within a half-mile of the freeway. Many formed during intense storms in 1969 and 1998, and more formed this week. We passed dozens of new debris flows as we drove through the other day.

For more info:

Manson, M.W., C.W. Davenport, K.D. Brown, C.J. Wills, and C.J. Domrose, 2002, Landslides in the Highway 60 Corridor, San Timoteo Badlands, Riverside, California: Special Report 186, California Department of Transportation, New Technology and Research Program, Office of Infrastructure Research, Project F99TL34