How long is the vermillion river

Coulee Iles des Cannes drains a large swath of western Lafayette Parish stretching from north of I southward. Near Maurice, the coulee serves as the Lafayette-Vermilion parish boundary. Kinsland says the combined infusion of water from those two tributaries pushes water northward all the way through Lafayette back into Cypress Island Swamp, which sits in the plain east of the Lafayette Airport. When that happens, Lafayette experiences flooding along the river.

He compares the impact of the tributaries on the Vermilion to putting a water hose in the middle of the gutter on a house with small slope. Those tributaries put more water in than the river can handle in one direction, so it flows both ways. Look at the houses along the river and look at the people with political sway there. Kinsland has studied the Vermilion for years, authoring a paper on the impact of urbanization. Commenting is reserved for donors. Make a Donation ».

Legislative bodies appropriate money, not the executive branch. The long-discussed plan to build a new performing arts center in Lafayette may be taking shape.

To see the full agendas, check out the links below. Power our work. Donate today and double your gift. The flow of the Vermilion River from Bayou Fuselier to the Vermilion Bay south of Abbeville When it rains real hard, the water goes both ways The headwaters of the Vermilion are about 25 feet lower than the land it moves through, starting on the east side of the Lafayette Regional Airport.

For those who prefer wading, access by foot, while limited, is available. You can park at the Dells Area section of the Mathiesson State Park and walk half-mile walk to the river. Or if you park at the Vermilion River Area of the Park, it's a half-mile walk downhill through scenic, forested-trails and across bridges. River Access: The Vermilion River is limited in the number of public access points it has to offer.

There are public boat ramps located in Streator and Pontiac. The lower part of the river is also a popular destination for canoeing and kayaking. There are also a few additional bridge crossings and roadside areas that are popular with local residents. The French established Pinhook Landing as an early trading post. In the early 19th century it became the most inland navigable landing that could be reached by shallow draft steamboats, making it an important distribution center for inland goods moving south to New Orleans and the Gulf.

North of here, merchants used pirogues, flat boats or small barges to transport goods and people. Eventually, low water levels and submerged logs hindered water transportation, which further declined with the advent of the railroad and paved roads. Sometime in the antebellum era, a wooden Pinhook Bridge was constructed. The current vertical lift bridge was built in and, when open, allows larger vessels carrying commercial and industrial cargo to petrochemical and construction companies along the Vermilion to pass.

Not isolation from people per se, because we were a group of ten, but that sense of escape that comes from leaving what is familiar and routine. With every turn of the murky brown river came some new experience. One afternoon after drawing together for lunch we decided to latch all our boats together and create a flotilla.

What was once a fleet of canoes and kayaks had become one giant raft. A couple of the guys jury rigged a sail out of two oars and a tarp and we sat there, laughing in the sun, letting the wind push us further southward. Another time I found myself alone on the river.

As I paddled I could hear the unique grunting sound of egrets along the trees lining the east bank. Eventually I found a stream that seemed to be flowing from where I had placed them in the forest. I followed the water into a marsh and found myself in the middle of a nesting ground.

Hundreds of white egrets and pink spoonbills lined the branches of lofty cypress trees. I watched in silence as they flew from tree to tree, feeding their young before meeting back up with team and continuing south.

Our last day on the river was by far the most challenging. From the first few paddle strokes it became apparent that there was a shift in tides on the river.

Brackish water from the gulf met us head on, accompanied by strong winds. Our pace was slowed to a crawl as we struggled against the strong current. After battling our way to the Intercoastal Waterway we decided to put in at a harbor and call it a day. It was hard for me to leave having come only a few miles short of our goal, but it's just another reason to come back to Louisiana and paddle the Vermilion once more.

They both have a way with stillness. Herons wait patiently to glide downstream along the treetops while wood ducks blend with the shadows on the water. If I am not as still, I could miss them all. I was excited at my first experience of a collaborative photography project, which meant being on the river with four photographers, two guides, and four other project collaborators. Over the first two days of getting used to being with a large group on the water I kept going back to the word stillness and began to search for it in my environment.

I paid closer attention to moments when I was alone, when I found an object that was alone or I where I felt still or found an object I felt was very still. This also served my desire to observe. Not looking to exploit the landscape but to conserve those moments of hush. The Vermilion wound through acres of grain silos and hidden barns.

Through hundred year oaks wrapped in resurrection ferns and forgotten houses we made plans to buy. I found my piece of the river, where I wanted to be fixed, just as the moss, in my fullest expression. Though the grandeur of the bayou was sometimes found in the trash problems I was tasked with alleviating, I felt it was important to record the bayou in an authentic way.

Through my experience on the bayou, I formed an intimate relationship with the waterway, so when I was offered the chance to make this voyage I jumped at the opportunity. The trip would last four days, traversing both Lafayette and Vermilion Parish, to finally reach Intracoastal City, 60 miles from our starting point. As we launched our boats on a calm, foggy morning, there was an excitement amongst the group of what was to come.

The Bayou Vermilion is the natural feature that has shaped the physical and cultural environment that is Acadiana.

What was once a thriving economic highway for the area has over the years lost its luster in the hearts and minds of most who live in proximity. The bayou is viewed by many as a polluted ditch of sorts-- ridden with dead cows and discarded washing machines. What people may not know is efforts to clean and improve the condition and perception of the waterway have been carried out for years.

It is necessary for all to properly store and dispose of waste as well as prevent it from escaping into the natural environment. My interest in the bayou has always been the interaction of humans with the surrounding environments. How is it that someone can cross over Pinhook bridge every day for work, but overlook the natural beauty that flows beneath?

When did we become so disconnected from our waterway and is this a problem unique to the urban setting? Does it reach the more rural locations along the bayou as well?