From The New Yorker piece entitled, The Big One" by Kathryn Schultz:
When the next very big earthquake hits, the northwest edge of the
continent, from California to Canada and the continental shelf to the
Cascades, will drop by as much as six feet and rebound thirty to a
hundred feet to the west—losing, within minutes, all the elevation and
compression it has gained over centuries. Some of that shift will take
place beneath the ocean, displacing a colossal quantity of seawater.
The water will surge upward into a huge hill, then promptly collapse.
One side will rush west, toward Japan. The other side will rush east, in
a seven-hundred-mile liquid wall that will reach the Northwest coast,
on average, fifteen minutes after the earthquake begins. By the time the
shaking has ceased and the tsunami has receded, the region will be
unrecognizable. Kenneth Murphy, who directs FEMA’s Region
X, the division responsible for Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and Alaska,
says, “Our operating assumption is that everything west of Interstate 5
will be toast.”
I know - when I saw that "west of I-5" I thought, "Whew, I live east." Apparently, that sigh of relief may be short-lived.
Now the really bad news:
When the next full-margin rupture happens, that region will suffer the worst natural disaster in the history of North America.
FEMA projects that nearly thirteen thousand people will
die in the Cascadia earthquake and tsunami. Another twenty-seven
thousand will be injured, and the agency expects that it will need to
provide shelter for a million displaced people, and food and water for
another two and a half million. “
According to the article, the "science is robust" so it's not a lot of nervous Nellies talking.
At approximately nine o’ clock at night on January 26, 1700, a
magnitude-9.0 earthquake struck the Pacific Northwest, causing sudden
land subsidence, drowning coastal forests, and, out in the ocean,
lifting up a wave half the length of a continent. It took roughly
fifteen minutes for the Eastern half of that wave to strike the
By counting the number and the size of deposits in
each sample, then comparing their extent and consistency along the
length of the Cascadia subduction zone, Goldfinger and his colleagues
were able to determine how much of the zone has ruptured, how often, and
to that work, we now know that the Pacific Northwest has experienced
forty-one subduction-zone earthquakes in the past ten thousand years. If
you divide ten thousand by forty-one, you get two hundred and
forty-three, which is Cascadia’s recurrence interval: the average amount
of time that elapses between earthquakes.
That timespan is dangerous both because it is too
long—long enough for us to unwittingly build an entire civilization on
top of our continent’s worst fault line—and because it is not long
Counting from the earthquake of 1700, we are now three hundred
and fifteen years into a two-hundred-and-forty-three-year cycle. It
is possible to quibble with that number. Recurrence intervals are
averages, and averages are tricky: ten is the average of nine and
eleven, but also of eighteen and two. It is not possible, however, to
dispute the scale of the problem.
The article includes a fairly simple exercise, using your hands, to explain the Cascadia subduction zone. Show the kids.
Also, I learned a new word from this article: dendrochronology, the study of growth-ring patterns in trees.
What does this mean for you and me and Seattle schools? Part Two.