ENVIRONMENTAL GEOLOGY
The preceding part of this chapter mentions many ways in which man’s destiny in Colorado has been shaped by geologic factors. Early Coloradoans settled near gold and silver placers, later ones near mines that produced ores of other metals, or in the towns that sprang up around the mills and smelters that processed these ores. Our present distribution of population is partly a heritage from these first settlements, partly a result of later discoveries of oil, gas, and radioactive minerals, and partly a response to the state’s extreme topographic variation, which controls and delineates agricultural areas and transportation routes.
In recent years, man has begun to appreciate the fact that he may benefit in other ways from knowledge about geology. A new geology has developed—environmental geology—which may be defined as the total of all geological conditions and influences affecting the life and development of man.
Environmental geology is a broad science, concerned not only with the location of cities and towns, but with the uses people make of the land and its economic products, and with the relationship between the geological character of the land and the present and future location of roads, dams, bridges, factories, homes, recreation facilities, sanitary land fills, and even sewage plants.
Two aspects of environmental geology which are particularly pertinent to Colorado’s residents are discussed below.
Landslides and slumping rock or earth are a frequent menace to Colorado’s development in the Mountain Province. Often activated by heavy rains or deep manmade cuts, they can cause—and have caused—much damage to roads, buildings, and other works of man.
The flanks of North and South Table Mountains, near Golden, are mantled by thick landslide debris; intermittent movement of the individual slides has repeatedly affected the railroad, irrigation ditches, and roads. As many as six different slides have moved within a single year. In one slide area, asphalt road material is estimated to be thirteen feet thick; successive layers of pavement have been laid one on top of another to keep the street up to grade.
Landslides and landslide-prone areas may not be obvious to the untrained eye. Each year buildings and roads are constructed on unsuitable rock and soil foundations, in places where some degree of land slip is almost inevitable. Building in such areas is risky, but sometimes worth the risk; if condition are less than ideal, risks can be reduced by specialized types of construction.
Floods are a perennial threat to much of the state, because of the high relief of the drainage basins and the torrential nature of the spring and summer rainfall. Their damaging effects were realized early in Colorado’s history, when canyons were used as highways and railroad routes.
Colorado’s most expensive flood was probably the flood in the South Platte River basin south of Denver in 1965, which caused $508,000,000 worth of damage and drowned six people. The losses can be attributed to man’s failure to realize the significance of the South Platte drainage routes and flood plains. Homes, shopping centers, and many other buildings occupied—and still occupy, as of 1971—land that has been intermittently flooded for many years. The following description of this flood, by H. F. Matthai of the U. S. Geological Survey, may help to convey some warning to residents or potential residents of the South Platte valley and other river valleys in Colorado:
“The morning of June 16 was most pleasant, but conditions changed rapidly shortly before noon. A tornado touched ground 15 miles south southeast of Denver about 1 p.m. Within the next hour, another unroofed 30 homes in the little town of Palmer Lake, 40 miles south of Denver. About 2 p.m., a dense mass of clouds descended and concealed the top of Dawson Butte, 7 miles southwest of Castle Rock; and the little light remaining faded until it was dark black and frightening, according to some people. A nearby rancher’s wife described the intense quiet as awesome, but the calm did not last very long.
“The deluge began, not only near Dawson Butte, but also at Raspberry Mountain, 6 miles to the south, near Larkspur. The rain came down harder than any rain the local residents had ever seen, and the temperature dropped rapidly until it was cold. The quiet was shattered by the terrible roar of wind, rain, and rushing water. Then the thudding of huge boulders, the snapping and tearing of trees, and the grinding of cobbles and gravel increased the tumult. The small natural channels on the steep slopes could not carry the runoff; so water took shortcuts, following the line of least resistance. Creeks overflowed, roads became rivers, and fields became lakes—all in a matter of minutes.
“The flow from glutted ravines and from fields and hillsides soon reached East and West Plum Creeks. The combined flow in these creeks have been described as awesome, fantastic, and unbelievable; yet none of these superlatives seem adequate to describe what actually occurred. Large waves, high velocities, crosscurrents, and eddies swept away trees, houses, bridges, automobiles, heavy construction equipment, and livestock. All sorts of debris and large volumes of sand and gravel were torn from the banks and beds of the streams and were dumped, caught, plastered, or buried along the channel and flood plains downstream. A local resident stated, ‘The banks of the creek disappeared as if the land was made of sugar.’
“The flood reached the South Platte River and the urban areas of Littleton, Englewood, and Denver about 8 p.m. Here the rampaging waters picked up house trailers, large butane storage tanks, lumber, and other flotsam and smashed them against bridges and structures near the river. Many of the partly plugged bridges could not withstand the added pressure and washed out. Other bridges held, but they forced water over approach fills, causing extensive erosion. The flood plains carried and stored much of the flood water, which inundated many homes, businesses, industries, railroad yards, highways, and streets.
“The flood peak passed through Denver during the night, and the immediate crisis was over by morning; but those in the inundated areas were faced with a Herculean task. The light of day revealed the nature of the destruction—mud in every nook and cranny, soggy merchandise, warped bowling alleys, drowned animals, the loss of irreplaceable possessions, to name a few types. The colossal cleanup job, which would take months, began.”
Hydrogeological studies by the U. S. Geological Survey and Corps of Engineers give knowledgeable estimates of flood danger for different populated areas of the state, and recommend that homes, roads, and other structures be placed above likely flood levels.