All that mud has to go somewhere. We certainly don’t want it here.
After my post on dredging (which was far too long ago, I apologize), I’m attempting a return with some answers to the question several readers put to me: What happens to the mud that is dredged from the canals?
Bear in mind that Venice has dredged its canals many times over the centuries and deposited the mud somewhere it could be useful. For example, the island of Sacca Sessola was created from 1860-1870 with the mud dredged from the area of Santa Marta during the deepening of the canals of the maritime zone. And it is far from being the only one.
Sacca Sessola (so named because it was shaped in a way that reminded somebody of the common boat-bailing scoop) first served as a fuel depository facility, then converted in 1914 to house a large hospital dedicated to curing respiratory diseases, particularly tuberculosis. In 2015 the J.W. Marriott company turned the decrepit remains of the abandoned hospital into a five-star luxury hotel/resort, and renamed the island in its publicity as Isola delle Rose (Island of the Roses). Venetians continue to call it Sacca Sessola.Sacca Sessola is easy to identify from afar by its water tower. Like all the hospital islands, it was largely self-sufficient. Apart from the water, it had a stable full of cows, a bakery, laundry, and a lovely church. From the pictures on their website, it appears that the church is now a cocktail bar, or at least a venue for some elegant social event. (Photo: Riccardo Roiter Rigoni)
Small digression: “Sacca” (saca in Venetian) is often used to identify such places, but don’t confuse it with sacco, which means “bag.” A sacca is defined as “an inlet or cove of the sea, lake, river, or more precisely the bottom of an inlet or gulf. In geography, the accumulation of brackish water, very shallow, that is formed in sandy areas that separate the branches of a delta, from the resurgence of seawater from the subsoil.” End of digression.
Ludovico Ughi’s map (1729) showed that Venice had plenty of empty spaces where land was later to be applied. Counterclockwise from top left we see the Sacca di Santa Chiara (just to illustrate what was meant by “sacca”), and the island of Santa Chiara. Then there is the expansion of the Santa Marta area where the red-circled area of water shown here was filled in for a military parade ground in 1838 by the Austrians, shown below. At the far right, water ripples where the island of Sant’ Elena now stands.Santa Marta 1838. The Austrians need a military parade ground, or Campo di Marte, so let’s wedge one in here.In 1869 the train station is visible in all its glory; notice that the island of Santa Chiara is still hanging on right next door.Big doings in 1888. Dredgings are dumped to form the new “Stazione Marittima,” or maritime terminal, clearly visible in the upper left corner and thereby (obliterating? incorporating?) the island of Santa Chiara. In the same year, the Giudecca has been elongated by the addition of Sacca Fisola and Sacca San Biagio. Even though the Austrians departed in 1866, the Campo di Marte on this German map is still labeled “Exerzierzplatz” (exercise place).In 1913 the area at Santa Marta is now labeled “Ex Campo di Marte” and the lower half of the land is occupied by warehouses. The black lines stretching along the bridge and down to the Stazione Marittima and the waterfront on the Canale di Fusina were railway tracks bringing freight trains directly to the ships. At the easternmost edge of the city we now see “Isola di Sant’ Elena,” developed in the 1920’s on land that had been built there as another military parade ground. At least they found a useful second life after the Austrians left.The Stazione Marittima was enlarged in 1958 by an extension cleverly named Tronchetto. It does sort of look like an elephant’s trunk. Less fancifully, it is also known as “Isola Nuova” (new island).
Murano, a natural grouping of lagoon islands, has been amplified with dredgings over the years; if you look at Google Maps (satellite view) you can easily locate Sacca Serenella, a sort of industrial zone to which no tourist would be lured. Murano has also grown on its northern perimeter by the addition of yet another island, mostly barren at the moment, where the Centro Sportivo San Mattia is located.
Murano. Sacca Serenella is the lower island, and the upper barren land has only partially been reclaimed by a sports facility that includes state-of-the-art bocce courts.
The cemetery island of San Michele has undergone quite an expansion over the past few years, thanks to dredgings from the city and environs. Puts a perfect, if slightly queasy, spin on the old “dust to dust” trope. I wonder if you could specify in your will that you want to be buried in the mud dug up from the canal nearest to your home.
The current island was originally two — San Michele and San Cristoforo. Napoleon decreed the establishment of a municipal cemetery. as opposed to the local graveyards near parish churches. More space is constantly needed, so keep those dredgings coming.Two steps, so to speak, from San Michele is a reconstructed barena, painstakingly built up to replace one that the motondoso had completely eroded. Considering how many motorboats roar past every day, and even more in the summer, I’m not betting that it will not eventually meet the same fate. To the right is the larger barena created just a few years ago more or less at the same time as the Vento di Venezia marina. It used to be a lovely stretch of water to row across on the way to the Vignole, but Lord knows we need more barene.
When there is a large quantity of mud to be deposited, it is sprayed from enormous barges through high-powered tubes, specifically to form new barene (marshy islands). This process was quite a spectacle for a while during the construction of the “Vento di Venezia” marina at the island of the Certosa.
Looking across the recreated barena from the moorings at the Vento di Venezia.Not visible here are the barely submerged bags of stones that defend the fragile muddy islets from the lashing of the motorboat waves.The barrier is easier to see in this view. Lino went exploring among the saltwort (Salicornia europaea). We often see birds here, sometimes nesting — egret, beccaccia di mare (Haematopus olstralegus), cavaliere d’Italia (Himantopus himantopus). The random seagull.
Unhappily, sometimes the mud is poison. I’m not picking on Murano, but canals near the glass furnaces are known to contain arsenic and a few other chemicals not conducive to health. The sediments along the lagoon edge by the Industrial Zone are loaded with heavy metals — pick your favorite, it will be there. Sometimes illegal clammers go there at night, sell the clams, they’re sold to restaurants, etc. You can imagine.
Because the provenance of the mud matters, there is a system by which it is analyzed and classified and, if necessary, treated to render it harmless. This is more than usually important if it’s being sold to farmers to enrich their fields. I haven’t researched the system(s), so please don’t ask me. The point is that they exist.
The mud of Venice. You probably wouldn’t call it poetic, but it’s just as important as the water.
I couldn’t comment at the time due to physical limitations, but I loved your post on dredging. As well as being generally interesting, it answered a question for us. We had been told that via Garibaldi was technically a bridge. We hadn’t been able to see any evidence of it at the lagoon end but we had never been there when there was a really low tide. We were going to check the Fondamenta Anna end when we came back in 2020, then we couldn’t come in 2020, or 2021… so your post cleared that up for us in very satisfying detail. Honestly, I love that sort of information. There is probably a word for me, hopefully a nice one 🙂
And now a post on what happens to the mud, with lots of maps showing the progression of the geography of Venice! I love maps (Where did you get those maps?) and I love digressions into the origins of words, so thank you, Erla. Have you ever thought about making a book of all your posts? I’d buy it.
Looking forward to the next one.
Julie
I get the maps by foraging around Google — but I sometimes also search in Italian, which often brings up even more interesting material. And thank you for your kind suggestion of a book. Yes, I have thought of it, and this might be the year it finally happens. True, I said that last year, but this time it could be different. I also said that last year.
So good to hear from you again, and as always, fascinating information! I always enjoy your images, maps and information, thank you for returning to your keyboard – I’ve had a pretty rotten week, and this has cheered me up greatly.
Fascinating. Does the creation of new marshlands in any degree offset or compensate for the filling of the marshes at the perimeter of the lagoon? Do the new marshlands help clean the water, keep it healthy? Your good story raises optimistic question!
The marshlands (barene) serve many purposes in the ecology and functioning of the lagoon biome. Not sure what you mean by cleaning the water; the water is exchanged with the Adriatic more or less every time the tide changes, so I suppose one could regard that as cleaning. The continual filling-in along the edges of the lagoon that you mention can’t be regarded as positive in that by shrinking the area it accelerates and distorts the action of the water in the smaller area. In any case, the new barene probably won’t last as long as one might wish, considering that the erosion from motondoso inexorably continues. While you’re building up here, you’re losing land just over there, so it’s a little like running up the down escalator, ecologically speaking.
Thanks for the reply. In the desert city where I live, the sewage treatment plant has created a couple of marshy ponds. Some of the semi-cleaned water is pumped into those, where plants feed on its nutrients, before it is further filtered and pumped (separately from the drinking water system) to water public parks and road medians. It sounds awful, but the water has no scent, and there are public paths with interpretive signage, and an interesting array of birds. On a smaller scale, a few nature centers are constructing marshlands for a final filtering of septic systems. Charming to encounter (strange but true).
I am perplexed and maybe you can help me. The Chiesa di Sant’Elena was built in as early as 1060 by some accounts. Saint Helen was brought to the lagoon and interred in her eponymous church in 1211. It’s curious that the church is not shown on the earlier maps. Any idea why this might be? Thank you! Love your blog…it’s always interesting!
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Erla, this posting is quite interesting. I never thought about the mud of Venice.
Vern
I couldn’t comment at the time due to physical limitations, but I loved your post on dredging. As well as being generally interesting, it answered a question for us. We had been told that via Garibaldi was technically a bridge. We hadn’t been able to see any evidence of it at the lagoon end but we had never been there when there was a really low tide. We were going to check the Fondamenta Anna end when we came back in 2020, then we couldn’t come in 2020, or 2021… so your post cleared that up for us in very satisfying detail. Honestly, I love that sort of information. There is probably a word for me, hopefully a nice one 🙂
And now a post on what happens to the mud, with lots of maps showing the progression of the geography of Venice! I love maps (Where did you get those maps?) and I love digressions into the origins of words, so thank you, Erla. Have you ever thought about making a book of all your posts? I’d buy it.
Looking forward to the next one.
Julie
I get the maps by foraging around Google — but I sometimes also search in Italian, which often brings up even more interesting material. And thank you for your kind suggestion of a book. Yes, I have thought of it, and this might be the year it finally happens. True, I said that last year, but this time it could be different. I also said that last year.
So good to hear from you again, and as always, fascinating information! I always enjoy your images, maps and information, thank you for returning to your keyboard – I’ve had a pretty rotten week, and this has cheered me up greatly.
Erla: Fabulous dredging up (sic) of the records of changes to the islands.
Fascinating. Does the creation of new marshlands in any degree offset or compensate for the filling of the marshes at the perimeter of the lagoon? Do the new marshlands help clean the water, keep it healthy? Your good story raises optimistic question!
The marshlands (barene) serve many purposes in the ecology and functioning of the lagoon biome. Not sure what you mean by cleaning the water; the water is exchanged with the Adriatic more or less every time the tide changes, so I suppose one could regard that as cleaning. The continual filling-in along the edges of the lagoon that you mention can’t be regarded as positive in that by shrinking the area it accelerates and distorts the action of the water in the smaller area. In any case, the new barene probably won’t last as long as one might wish, considering that the erosion from motondoso inexorably continues. While you’re building up here, you’re losing land just over there, so it’s a little like running up the down escalator, ecologically speaking.
Thanks for the reply. In the desert city where I live, the sewage treatment plant has created a couple of marshy ponds. Some of the semi-cleaned water is pumped into those, where plants feed on its nutrients, before it is further filtered and pumped (separately from the drinking water system) to water public parks and road medians. It sounds awful, but the water has no scent, and there are public paths with interpretive signage, and an interesting array of birds. On a smaller scale, a few nature centers are constructing marshlands for a final filtering of septic systems. Charming to encounter (strange but true).
Can I entice you into revealing the name of this interesting desert city?
Thank you Erla, so pleased you’re back, and lovely to see a picture of Lino!
I am perplexed and maybe you can help me. The Chiesa di Sant’Elena was built in as early as 1060 by some accounts. Saint Helen was brought to the lagoon and interred in her eponymous church in 1211. It’s curious that the church is not shown on the earlier maps. Any idea why this might be? Thank you! Love your blog…it’s always interesting!