Creek

Codornices creek runs from the Berkeley hills, through Codornices Park and the Rose Garden, through Live Oak Park, and down to the San Francisco Bay. Unlike every other creek in Berkeley, it was not buried in culverts in the first half of this century. Along its entire length it has only five significant underground sections (including 1301 Oxford St.). Codornices Creek is one of Berkeley's precious natural treasures, a narrow corridor of beauty and wilderness running through our city.

See...Berkeley Creek Ordinance

March, 2005: Real-time stage, flow, temperature, and specific conductance data for Codornices Creek are now available at:

http://www.balancehydrologics.com/codornices/creek/index.php

Since all the data is uploaded automatically, it is not checked for accuracy until a final streamflow record is constructed by a human being. Rainfall data is available at:

http://www.balancehydrologics.com/codornices/rain/

Hearing concerning revision of Berkeley Creek Ordinance, 2004 Sep 28.

For a special treat, read excerpts from the book, Hidden Walks by Stephen Altschuler aptly express the feelings of many LOCCNA members when it comes to the community value of creeks.

See photos of Codornices Creek:

• • Upstream (east) of 1301 Oxford

  • At 1301 Oxford

  • Downstream (west) of 1301 Oxford

Fish can and do survive in Berkeley creeks, including lower Codornices Creek, and Strawberry Creek on the UC Berkeley campus. Federally protected steelhead trout are alive in lower Codornices! If migratory fish such as salmon or steelhead trout are someday to return to upper Codornices, as we so dearly hope, the longest of the culverted sections on the creek will need to be "daylighted"; this includes the portion on 1301 Oxford. Above-ground creeks also provide habitat for birds and other wildlife. The City of Berkeley's stated policy is to promote preservation of above-ground creeks and to promote daylighting of underground creeks. The City is considering spending tens of millions of dollars to daylight portions of Strawberry Creek through downtown Berkeley.

The Codornices Creek Daylight Project meets every Sunday, 11am-1pm in the stretch of Codornices Creek that is two blocks north of 8th and Gilman (in Berkeley)--turn right at the creek.

Impact of the Beth-El project

The culvert on 1301 Oxford is a prime candidate for daylighting, since there is nothing built on it. In the Fall of 2001, after years of contention, Beth El finally agreed to a compromise that leaves the creek corridor undeveloped.

Guide to SAN FRANCISCO BAY AREA CREEKS http://www.museumca.org/creeks/ from The Oakland Museum of California

Excerpt from "Hidden Walks" by Stephen Altschuler...

Creek Walking

Creeks are the heart-blood of a town - arteries that descend from the hills, greeting developed areas with that absolute trust that is common in the natural world. And how a community returns the greeting is a measure of its spirit. Does it slam its doors with culverts, embalming the creek beneath concrete and asphalt? Does it bully it into back alleys where it becomes little more than a cesspool? Or does it showcase the creek, garnishing its banks with trees and flowers, embracing it, and acknowledging the vital part it can play in peoples lives?

Berkeley is fortunate to have several creeks still not fully encased by concrete. Capistrano, Codornices, Strawberry, Blackberry, Schoolhouse - the names are full of lightness and dance, full of whimsy and poetry.

A creek balances the nature of a town. A creek has nothing to do with commerce or higher education or political leanings. It does't try to better itself, for it has no self to better. It simply advances: faster in wet weather, slower in dry. A creek is a model of unity and simplicity, offering a frenetic town relief from its willful activities.

There's been talk of breaking up some of the downtown parking lots that entomb Strawberry Creek -of resurrecting it and restoring its rightful place. If the creek were to flow downtown with renewed grace and grandeur, as it does on the university campus, the soul of the town would be nourished. At one time, as recently as 200 years ago, this area was meadow and scattered woodland, filled with bunch grasses, clover, and coast live oak, its streams running into a much larger bay, its skies thick with migratory birds.

And, in deep ways, some of this natural beauty is still here. On the surface is a crust of concrete, but if left unmaintained, even for as little as a hundred years, it would all return to the softness of soil, sand, and silt. The streets would heave and crack and plant life and -water would seep in, acid4ing and decomposing the rock. Look at any abandoned parking lot and see oxalis and wild mustard making ready a meadow.

Yes, we need to welcome the creeks back. We need reminders of our own naturalness. We need to see moving water with its places of stillness -- places of quiet reflection within a form that constantly changes.

A human being, like a creek, is also moving, changing, flowing; yet we often fight against this nature, causing inner conflict and suffering. Even happiness becomes a fight, for its base is aversion to pain.

There is no fight to a creek's life. In winter it is full and fast. In summer it is a thin silver ribbon meandering along, letting gravity and the lowest places determine its course. A creek's life is not a problem to be solved nor a struggle to be overcome. There is no sense of unfolding or becoming. There is no tension, no frustration, no anxiety, no expecting. There is just the water-course way taking the path of least resistance in complete harmony with the earth-course way. The two are inseparable - earth and water. And it's that quality of harmony that makes creek walking so appealing and nurturing.

In the hills above Berkeley, there is a section of Wildcat Creek - a short stretch of wildness - that has within it the same spirit as the most awesome of any Sierra white water. Walking there is quieting. The imaginary line between "creek" and "self" is gone. There is just water and woods and no thought about them.

It is in that moment of quietness that love arises. It was always there, but the silence of mind allows it space to manifest. It is an extraordinary moment, deep and expansive, yet ephemeral. Thought returns, but all is now changed. The earth is more a real mother.

See also, The Way of the Waterfall (chapter from Hidden Walks by Stephen Altschuler).