Here's a few more photos from the recent field trip to the Massanutten Synclinorium in the northern Shenandoah Valley, Virginia.

Some more Arthrophycus (?) trace fossils in the Massanutten Formation:

Outcrop of the Massanutten Formation on Route 678, south of Waterlick, VA. Note that the bedding is dipping to the south (reflecting the overall "canoe"-shape to the structure of the Massanutten Synclinorium... this is the "bow" of the canoe...):

Shelly horizon in the Mahantango Formation. Mainly brachiopod debris, but also crinoid columnals:

Cross-bedding in the Martinsburg Formation's Bouma sequences. This is a sample I collected on Saturday. I sawed it open on Monday, then polished it and gave it a coat of clear acrylic. Sample length is about 5 cm:

Ditto. As above, we can see clear cross-bedding here, reflecting current flow in these ancient turbidites:

Bedding / cleavage relationships expressed at an instructive outcrop in the parking lot of a pet store north of Front Royal, Virginia. Bedding is clearly visible running subhorizontally across the picture, but the rock breaks vertically: a tectonically-induced cleavage:

You could hardly ask for a better outcrop to teach bedding / cleavage relationships. Here's a medium-sized anticline in the same outcrop (note quarter, center, for scale). It clearly displays a fan of cleavage orientations. Lovely!

Lastly, on that same note, here's a sample I collected fromthat locality, with bedding planes and cleavage planes highlighted through the magic of CorelDraw. The stripes you see on the face of the sample are formed by the intersection of bedding and cleavage planes, shown schematically in red:

Labels: appalachians, field trips, fossils, primary structures, valley and ridge, virginia

This weekend, I took a backpacking trip in Shenandoah National Park. Thought I would share a few photos today: scenery first, geology second...

Here's the view looking east from Skyline Drive:


The temperature difference due to elevation was striking. It was still early spring up on the top of the mountains, on Skyline Drive:


...But down below, it was green and lush (and sodden with pollen!):


I camped out for two nights near Corbin Cabin, and did a day-hike around Thorofare Mountain on Saturday, visiting this waterfall at lunchtime:


The geology of Shenandoah National Park is interesting: it records the assembly of the early supercontinent Rodinia at about a billion years ago, and then the breakup of Rodinia about 600 million years ago. The first event recorded is the generation of granite gneisses and granites due to the Grenville Orogeny. The oldest unit in the park is the 1.1 Ga Pedlar Formation, a granite gneiss. There's a slightly younger granite which intrudes it called the Old Rag Granite (~1.0 Ga), but I didn't see any outcrops (or float blocks) of it, so I'll not mention it further. There's a thin, patchy sedimentary cover called the Swift Run Formation deposited directly atop the granite gneiss and granite, providing a nonconformity surface. Atop that is a series of volumnious tholeiitic basalt flows: these mafic extrusions record the breakup of Rodinia and the opening of a new ocean basin: the Iapetus. In many places in the park, you can see "feeder dikes" of the Catoctin cutting through the older plutonic and metaplutonic rocks (see image below). There are also some sedimentary rocks layered atop the Catoctin (the Chilhowee Group), recording the transgression of the Sauk Sea on the North American platform. But I didn't encounter any good outcrops (or float blocks) of them on this trip, so I'll stick to the tectonic story: the Pedlar Formation shows us Rodinia getting put together, and the Catoctin Formation shows us Rodinia breaking apart. Later metamorphism due to Appalachian mountain-building resulted in changes in both of these rocks (development of "blue quartz" in the Pedlar, and the Catoctin metamorphosed to greenstone).

Here's a massive dike (possibly a "feeder dike" feeding surface lava flows) of the Catoctin basalt cutting through the Pedlar Formation granite gneiss, just north of the Marys Rock Tunnel. Note the columnar jointing extending perpendicular to the walls of the dike:


Having covered all that, I now propose to spend the rest of this blog post showing you the variety of cobbles and boulders in my campsite. I camped at the little wedge of land above the confluence of two streams. One stream's catchment basin was Catoctin, and the other drained outcrops of Pedlar. As a result, the "float" in my camp was all either Pedlar Formation or Catoctin Formation. I'll just run through them one after another so you get a sense of the range of variety in each formation.

You'll notice that the Pedlar is sometimes coarse, sometimes fine, sometimes well foliated, sometimes not so much. You'll also notice that the Catoctin varies a lot in terms of its extrusive texture: sometimes aphanitic (fine-grained), sometimes amygdular (formerly vesicular), sometimes it even runs to volcanic breccia. All of these original lithologies have been metamorphosed to various degrees in the Catoctin, which here can be seen by comparing the amount of green in the rock. This green comes from two metamorphic minerals: chlorite and epidote. Enjoy!

Pedlar Formation:



















Catoctin Formation:

Labels: appalachians, basalt, blue ridge, granite, iapetus, metamorphism, national parks, primary structures, proterozoic, shenandoah, virginia

Snowball Earth. The Pleistocene Ice Age was the proving ground for our species. But an earlier episode of glaciation, dubbed Snowball Earth, stretches our conception of what the limits of climate change are: the ice reached from the Earth's poles to its equator! Scientists infer that the freezing event was ended due to volcano-induced global warming. The course examines the geologic, chemical, and biologic evidence for Snowball Earth. This course meets 8/4 to 8/10: three evenings (MWF, 6-9pm) and one Saturday field trip to local Snowball glacial deposits. GOL 299, section 071N: 2 credits. More details

Labels: appalachians, geology, nova, teaching

On Tuesday afternoon, four students and I drove from Annandale, VA, up to Buffalo, NY, for the NE section meeting of the Geological Society of America. On the way, we crossed the Pennsylvanian Appalachians, and pulled over to examine some beautiful redbed exposures on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I think these are in the Hampshire Formation, but I could easily be wrong about that, considering I've never been here before. Here's a few photos. First, some beautifully rhythmic alternations between sand and mud, now preserved as alternating layers of sandstone and mudstone:

Then, some nice "ball and pillow" structures, as heavy sand sank downward into squishy mud. In places, the mud skooshes upward in "flames":

And lastly and most amazingly (for me), some awesome exposures of flute casts. These are erosional scours into a layer of sediment by a current, which then fills in the scours (called "flutes") with sand, making these flute casts on the underside of the overlying layer of sand:

The flutes "point" upstream, and open up (and shallow) in the downstream direction. More later!

Labels: appalachians, meetings, nova, pennsylvania, primary structures, sediment, teaching

Cool folds (in metamorphic foliation) in this sample:

Here's the real prize: a big chunk of peridotite (upper right) that's partly surrounded in a crinkly foliated matrix of chlorite schist (lower left):

I'm off to Buffalo, NY today with four Honors students to attend the northeastern section meeting of the Geological Society of America. If anyone from the geoblogosphere happens to be up there, I hope you'll say "howdy." Posting may be sporadic over the next few days... we'll see what the Internet connectivity issue is like up there.

Labels: appalachians, iapetus, meetings, nova, piedmont

I've already introduced you to two of my Honors students' field projects. Now for the last of the three -- Jason's project on the strained metaconglomerate of Klingle Road. Klingle Road is a "road" in D.C. that was damaged by a storm some years back, and never repaired. Some people have started using it as a park, while others clamor for the road to be fixed. Geologically, it's interesting because it exposes a rock unlike any other nearby: a distinctly foliated metaconglomerate. Because I am so clever, I call it the Klingle Road Metaconglomerate. It's part of the "Laurel Formation," which is one of many flavors of metagraywacke / accretionary wedge complex that make up the bulk of the Piedmont in this area. Here's some of the squished clasts that Jason is interested in:

We know these rocks got heated up a fair bit. How do we know this? Well, they flowed out into elongated shapes all oriented in the same direction for one (see the additional photos here). The outcrop is peppered with clusters of little plus-shaped protuberances: they are clusters of sericite (cryptocrystalline muscovite) in the shape of staurolite porphyroblasts. Staurolite is a reasonably high grade metamorphic mineral, and when we see the three-dimensional shape of staurolite, but it's been turned into relatively-low-grade sericite, it's an indication of "retrograde metamorphism." Basically, after hitting the peak of its particular metamorphic conditions (high temperature and pressure, growing staurolite), the rock is readjusting to lower temperatures and pressures, and those staurolite crystals are reacting to a mineral that's more stable at those lower temperatures and pressures: sericite.

But anyhow -- back to the metaconglomerate. It's made of clasts, and those clasts have been stretched. The question is: how much have they been stretched. Sometimes when strain estimates are made, we assume an initial sphere shape, and then measure the lengths of the various axes of the resulting ellipsoidal shape (the "strain ellipsoid"). But is the assumption of initial sphericity valid? Jason is testing this issue by measuring the axes of cobbles and pebbles from the metaconglomerate as well as loose cobbles and pebbles found in nearby Rock Creek. We want to get a sense of how ellipsoidal cobbles are before they experience orogenic shortening/stretching. Here's a shot of Jason, Spencer, and Victoria measuring cobble axis lengths on a gravel bar near the National Zoo:

And a shot of the crew close-up:

And, just for fun, here's one more shot from Victoria's field area on Broad Branch. We hiked up to the contact with the Kensington Tonalite (a ~464 Ma felsic intrusive rock -- essentially a granite) and found a series of small waterfalls over this resistant rock unit. In the sequence of cascades were a series of deep pools. I submerged myself in one of them:

Labels: appalachians, dc, field trips, nova, piedmont, sediment, structure, teaching

Lastly, in this final picture, you can see (on the left and in the foreground) what a lot of the large bodies of migmatite looks like: mostly granite with wisps of mafic residue strung out as thoroughly-foliated xenoliths. Their common alignment is oriented in the same direction as regional foliation. This granite yields U/Pb ages of ~460 Ma, which is Taconian in age.

Labels: appalachians, migmatite, piedmont, virginia

Last Friday, I had a fun local field trip, in search of ultramafic rocks included in the Piedmont's metamorphosed accretionary wedge complex. My companions on the trip were David and John, both of whom are retired gentlemen pursuing geology as a hobby. Because they're doing geology for fun, they are among the most dedicated and interested students I've met at NOVA. Friday's trip was something I've been meaning to do for a while, and both of them thought it sounded like an eye-opener, so they came along too.

Our goal was to find some new outcrops that we hadn't seen before. Of primary interest were several mafic and ultramafic bodies included in the larger metasedimentary complex of rocks that we know today as the Piedmont. As I've mentioned before, these Piedmont rocks are interpreted as being the rocks of an ancient (Neoproterozoic - Paleozoic) ocean basin. When the ocean basin closed during Appalachian mountain-building, the sediments of the ocean got squished and squeezed between North America and Africa. Mixed in with them were chunks of the ancient Iapetus Ocean crust, which would probably be recognizable as ophiolites if it weren't for that pesky regional metamorphism they endured as a result of the collision. Up and down the east coast, there are outcrops of these mafics and ultramafics along the presumed "suture" zone between ancestral North America and terranes (blocks of crust) that were once a volcanic island arc in the Iapetus Ocean. As with most geology field trips, we also found some other stuff worth noting, even though it wasn't our primary objective.

Our first stop (located thanks to Diecchio & Gottfried (2004) in USGS Circular 1264) was in Clifton, Virginia, where we went to see the unconformity between the Piedmont metamorphic rocks and the Triassic sedimentary rocks which overlie them in an ancient rift valley called the Culpeper Basin. Tragically, instead of a beautiful outcrop, we found freshly graded surfaces and several new McMansions. There was only a small strip of undeveloped land, about 20 feet wide and 50 feet long which had any rock left. But in that area, we found an outcrop of soapstone. Here, John scratches the soapstone (talc) with his fingernail. It's soft!

In this case, the soapstone is interpreted as being metamorphosed ultramafic rock. Close to it, we found this piece of conglomerate:

The conglomerate is the base of the sedimentary sequence in the Culpeper Basin: it's the Reston Member of the Manassas Sandstone Formation. Notice that it contains clasts of foliated metamorphic rocks -- these were derived from the older Piedmont rocks it unconformably overlies. The Piedmont rocks got metamorphosed during Appalachian mountain-building, and then when Pangea broke up, the Culpeper Basin (one of the Newark Supergroup basins) opened up and got filled in. The source for the infilling sediment was the neighboring area, not surprisingly including pieces of the Piedmont. Up-sequence, the conglomerate is overlain by the regular Manassas Sandstone, which is a rich brick red in color (classic Triassic red beds), and contains a wealth of primary sedimentary structures. I found this one piece, which unfortunately broke into chunks when I picked it up:

It displays ripple marks, raindrop impressions, and a few horizontal branching trace fossils. Anyhow, that was about it for the Clifton stop. We were bummed about the development destroying the outcrop. On to the next location, Indian Run, on the east side of Annandale. There, using the geologic map that accompanied Drake & Lyttle (1981), we walked along the creek bed looking for exposures of rock. We didn't have to go far before seeing some heavily-rusted green rocks:

The above photo is dominantly chlorite, but check this out:

Pyroxene-rich inclusions (xenoliths? olistoliths?) were observable in the heavily-weathered exposures. The outcrops here were saprolitic, meaning they were essentially "rotten rock." David was struck by how soft they were. He said "It feels like velvet!" We turned our attention to the more coherent specimens which were weathered out and deposited as cobbles in the streambed. I got a watermelon-sized specimen that's about 40% massive peridotite and 60% greenschist. (I showcased this leprechaun-colored specimen last night in Historical Geology lecture, when we were discussing the Taconian Orogeny.) We also found intriguing hints of mountain-building in clasts like this:

That's a couple of beautiful folds in gneissic metamorphic foliation. As above, the bright green minerals are chlorite. We also found some cobbles of sedimentary rocks mixed in with the locally-derived metamorphic rocks. For instance, here's a nice semispherical cobble of flint, likely derived from the flint-bearing limestones of the Shenandoah Valley:

How did this flint nodule travel ~50 miles from its source area to its current resting place in Indian Run? Likely, it was transported by an ancestral version of the Potomac River, which brought many westward-derived cobbles eastward during the Cretaceous. About 100 million years ago, this river deposited a layer of cobbles all over our local area, preserved today as the Potomac Formation. It unconformably overlies the Piedmont rocks, and can be found today as the basal layer of the Coastal Plain. It's even found as a layer topping our highest local hills. The exposures in Indian Run actually offered a nice view of the unconformity surface, with foliated metamorphic rocks below, and unlithified Cretaceous gravel deposits on top:

Just to close out this post, I'll show a few other cobbles found in the streams. Here's a gneiss containing big, beautiful porphyroblasts of garnet:

And here's a Skolithos-bearing boulder of the Antietam Formation (quartz sandstone / quartzite), which I originally posted a few days ago, but is so gorgeous it should be shown again if I'm talking about boulders.

Finally, as a preview of tomorrow's post, I'll show a boulder which hints at the complex relationship between the foliated metamorphic rocks (gneisses) of the Piedmont and felsic igneous rocks (granites) which were derived from the partial melting of the gneiss. In other words, this is a boulder of migmatite: rock that has experienced partial melting. We'll explore this in more depth with some in situ photographs tomorrow.

Labels: appalachians, culpeper basin, field trips, geology, nova, piedmont, virginia

DC Metro area residents, you're hereby invited to join me (NOVA) or Phil Justus (NRC) or Michelle Arsenault (NSF) on a geology hike along the Billy Goat Trail, a popular and rugged hiking trail upstream from DC on the Potomac River, downstream from Great Falls. Michelle and Phil and I take turns leading this excellent hike. You'll learn about the Iapetus Ocean, Appalachian mountain-building, and the incision history of the Potomac River. You'll see potholes, amphibolites, metagraywacke, migmatite, and the mysteriously-straight Mather Gorge. The Park Service has just posted the spring schedule online here. Reserve your space today!

Labels: appalachians, dc, geologists, piedmont

Picking up from yesterday's post about my hike along Windy Run in Arlington, Virginia...

Just downstream from the waterfall (and crossing the trail) is a recent rockslide. Between D.C. and Great Falls (12 miles upstream), the Potomac River flows through a canyon called the Potomac Gorge. It's hundreds of feet deep overall, and consists of a series of nested straths (bedrock "terraces"), each shaped roughly like (half) a canoe. (At the tip of each canoe is a waterfall leading up to the next strath). Where the vertical distance between straths is great, as it is at Windy Run, mass wasting events serve to break down the cliffs and reduce the crisp profile of the straths.


This rockslide happened in 2005, and the area of "raw" rock up at the top of the cliff reveals the source area for the rock debris below. I wish I had taken a photo of this three years ago when it was really fresh -- it would be an excellent place to do repeat photography to show how the talus pile and cliff face change over time. Upstream are several examples of older talus aprons that have been overgrown by plants and buried in soil. Already, you can see that a few Ailanthus trees (single, upright pole-looking things) have taken root in this fresh landscape.


Once you get down from the Windy Run trail to the Potomac Heritage trail, here's the view of the river, looking upstream. Virginia's on the left; D.C. on the right. A slight "shelf" can be seen on the Virginia side where a notch has been cut to host the George Washington Parkway.


As I hiked along, I found this dead mole. It's a big fat sucker, and it must be quite fresh: probably a casualty from the previous 24 hours. Lens cap is 5 cm in diameter.


More critter evidence: here's a couple of small tree trunks that were decapitated by a beaver. Again, this is recent -- note the fresh curls of wood shavings at the base of the trunk.


But enough with these living entities: let's look at some rocks. This is the metagraywacke rock that makes up most of the Piedmont in our area. This rock is metamorphosed to various degrees up and down the Potomac River, in some places all the way to gneiss and migmatite. In some places, it's schisty, but in others primary sedimentary structures are still preserved. Upstream by Great Falls, for instance, we find graded bedding in isolated less-metamorphosed, less-deformed areas. Down along this stretch of the river, it preserves a diversity of sedimentary clasts, as shown in this image:

Here, you're seeing the graywacke matrix mixed in with a bunch of dark chunks. Today, these dark chunks are mostly biotite, but that's metamorphic. Originally, they were probably mud clasts. Little pebbles of granite and vein quartz are mixed in too. It's worth noting that not only are they metamorphosed, but they're also stretched out in the same direction: foliated and lineated. Many are squashed into X>Y>Z ellipsoidal shapes (where the letters refer to the lengths of the different axes of the ellipsoid), like a mango seed. Lens cap is 5 cm in diameter.

Let's pause for a moment and bring people up to speed if you haven't previously spent any time thinking about Appalachian geology. These rocks are part of the Appalachian mountain belt, which runs from Newfoundland to Georgia (by one definition) or from Texas to Scandanavia (by a more inclusive definition). The Appalachian mountain belt consists of three provinces: from west to east: the Valley and Ridge, the Blue Ridge, and the Piedmont. Two of these are topographically mountainous today: the Valley and Ridge and the Blue Ridge, as their ridgey names imply. But the Piedmont certainly counts as part of the ensemble, and if you compare it to the other two, you'll find that it experienced the most metamorphism, the most deformation, and is intruded in many places with syn-orogenic granites (which neither of "the Ridges" can claim, at least not for Paleozoic orogenies). The Blue Ridge and the Valley and Ridge are deformed, yes, and even lightly metamorphosed, but the Piedmont is really where the action is: this is the center of the ancient Appalachian mountain range. These rocks experienced some serious continental convergence.

So what was the Piedmont before it was the Piedmont? An ocean basin. Before the Atlantic, before Pangea, there was an ocean basin off the "east" coast (it was really the south coast at that point, but no matter...). We call this dead ocean the Iapetus Ocean. The Iapetus was closed via subduction throughout the Paleozoic, and it closed for good when Africa rammed into North America, metamorphosing these rocks and raising the Appalachians. As subduction narrowed the Iapetus, sediments atop the oceanic crust were scraped off in a big jumbled pile called an accretionary wedge. (It is for this mixed-up melange that the infamous geo-blog carnival is named.) You want to see an accretionary wedge being scraped up today? Dive down to the Peru-Chile Trench, off the west coast of South America. You want to see a fresh one at the surface? Visit California's coast ranges, which are a Mesozoic accretionary wedge, raised above sea level. You want to see what an accretionary wedge looks like after it's been tectonically squeezed between two continents? Come to the Piedmont!

Our metamorphosed accretionary wedge consists of a bunch of the sediments that were deposited in the Iapetus Ocean, including what was originally graywacke (a mix of sand & mud). Occasionally, you find a sedimentary clast that's a bit more intriguing, like this one (white arrow):

What intrigues me about this little sedimentary cobble is the fact that it's foliated, which indicates metamorphism and differential pressure, but its foliation does not line up with Appalachian foliation. This cobble was foliated before it was deposited in the accretionary wedge. Therefore, it was derived from some area that had previously experienced mountain building & regional metamorphism (presumably a continent). That ancestral orogenic episode produced a source rock from which this cobble was derived. Then that cobble was deposited by sedimentary processes somewhere and (possibly later) incorporated into the accretionary wedge, which then was metamorphosed (& foliated) itself. Lens cap is 5 cm in diameter.

Here's another one, which shows its foliation a bit better:

When I see something like this, I start to wonder, where did this cobble come from? What was its sedimentary provenance? Is this a North American cobble that attained its foliation in the Grenville Orogeny (~1 Ga)? Is this an African cobble that got squeezed in some pre-Pangea Gondwanan orogeny? Is it derived from a nameless microcontinent that was formerly marooned in Iapetus oceanic crust (a la Madagascar) and is now accreted to some continent as an exotic terrane? Do the answers to these questions change how we think about the (1) closure of the Iapetus, (b) Appalachian Orogeny, (c) assembly of Pangea?

Elsewhere in the Potomac Gorge, there are other clasts in the accretionary wedge complex that encourage similar thoughts (for instance, you can check out the photos at the top of this page). Another question raised by these clasts is this: Does their position amidst such relatively fine grained sediments (the mud and sand of the graywacke) represent original deposition? Or is that simply tectonically-induced "shuffling" in the blender-like environment of the accretionary wedge? The rocks in an accretionary wedge are not stratigraphically coherent, but sometimes they have little areas that are. If these clasts are in their original depositional position relative to the graywacke matrix, what does that tell us? Are these landslide deposits? Or are these "Snowball Earth"-related glacial dropstones? Without the original sedimentary bedding (destroyed via orogenic metamorphosis & deformation), it's impossible to answer these questions, but it sure would be nice to know.

Lastly, I'll note that everything I've talked about so far (metagraywacke, mysterious clasts, quartz veins, granite intrusions, and regional foliation) are all cut by a series of joints, brittle fractures in the rock. These joints are arranged in a series of joint sets which intersect one another, resulting in the "blocky" nature to bedrock exposures in the Potomac Gorge (example). Here, along one Gorge-bounding cliff, I saw that the joints had begun to accomodate some sliding of the blocks of rock on either side. Technically, they aren't joints any longer, but faults, instead. Total offset is only a few inches, but it shows up well in a photo like this. Note the similar sense of motion on the more distant fault "scarp." A housekey (with pink ribbon attached!) is jammed into the closer fault to give a sense of scale.


All in all, an hour strolling along Windy Run provides some terrific opportunities for reflection on the checkered geologic past of the Piedmont and the Appalachians, and the continuing geomorphic evolution of the Potomac Gorge landscape. I enjoyed my little stroll. It was with reluctance that I turned around and headed back to the house to grade exams...

Labels: appalachians, faults, geology, mass wasting, plate tectonics, virginia

Last week, I put up some pictures of the folded strata at "the Whaleback" outside of Shamokin, Pennsylvania. Today, I'll augment those with some images of the fossils found at that site and at another outcrop of the Llewellyn Formation near St. Clair, Pennsylvania. Here's a fern impression to start with:

Labels: appalachians, fossils

It's funny how one thing leads to another. In promoting our Climate Change Symposium on Friday, I wrote to Cerphe (pronounced "Surf"), probably the best DJ in the world, who's on air in the afternoons on 94.7 The Globe, our DC-area "world-class rock" station that also features a green message. Cerphe wrote back, saying he'd get some mentions on the air this week, and also mentioned that his wife has a small business building green homes. I noticed that the business is headquartered in Bentonville, Virginia, out in the Shenandoah Valley between Massanutten Mountain and the Blue Ridge. And it occurred to me that I've looked at a bentonite layer out there in the Valley (see photo), not too far away from Bentonville. Bentonite is a common clay mineral that in stratigraphic layers is usually interpreted as weathered volcanic ash. (The one pictured above is possibly the "Big Bentonite" that accompanied the onset of the Ordovician Taconian Orogeny in eastern North America.) Could it be that bentonite is named for Bentonville, Virginia? Well, Wikipedia tells me that "The absorbent clay was given the name bentonite by an American geologist sometime after its discovery in about 1890 ...after the Benton Formation in Montana's Rock Creek area." So that took me to the entry on Fort Benton, Montana, which was named for the first 5-term U.S. Senator, Thomas Hart Benton. He was an advocate of westward expansion by the United States, the idea that later was dubbed "Manifest Destiny." So: as near as I can follow, bentonite is a mineral named for a place, which is in turn named for a man. What this has to do with world-class rock and climate change is anybody's guess.

Labels: appalachians, history, montana, volcano

Outside of Shamokin, Pennsylvania, is a coal strip mine that has had the coal stripped away. Under the coal was a Pennsylvanian (in the time sense of the word) carbonaceous shale (the Llewellyn Formation), which is now preserved in lovely undulating Appalachian folds. Thanks to the removal of the coal, these fold surfaces appear in three dimensions -- a rarity for structural geologists like myself. The area is known as "The Whaleback" because of one anticline (center) with a shape that evokes a surfacing cetacean:

I went to the Whaleback last fall on a fossil-hunting trip with the The Calvert Marine Museum Fossil Club. In today's post, I'll take a look at the structure, and in a later post, I'll show you some photos of the fossils themselves. Here's some of the guys on the trip:

At the north end of the excavation, a cross-sectional view of the absent upper levels is preserved, showing this syncline. It once continued towards the camera's perspective in the air, a downflung fold between the Whaleback anticline and the neighboring anticline which made up the background "wall" in the first photo.
Okay, that's it for today. Tune in soon for the fossiliferous sequel.

Labels: appalachians, structure

In last week's issue of Science, Paul Silver (of DC's own Department of Terrestrial Magnetism at the Carnegie Institution) and Mark Behn (formerly a post-doc at Carnegie, and now at Woods Hole in Massachusetts) published a paper putting forward an intriguing idea: maybe plate tectonics proceeds in fits and spurts.

Silver and Behn note that most of the world's subduction zones are located in the circum-Pacific belt, and that the Pacific is getting smaller over time. (Subduction destroys oceanic crust, and since the Earth presumably isn't increasing or decreasing in volume, subduction in the Pacific is balanced by seafloor spreading elsewhere, like the Atlantic.)

The Pacific is "predicted" to close in about 350 million years, assuming that the tectonic plates continue to move at about the same rate they're moving now. The death of the Pacific would come as the Americas smash into eastern Asia and Australia, raising up a Himalayan/Appalachian style mountain belt. Silver and Behn posit that this would basically end subduction on planet Earth for a time. This was a startling idea to me at first, but then I thought, "Why not?" Then I thought, "I wish I'd thought of that."

My understanding of mountain belts comes from the Appalachians, which built up in three successive episodes called orogenies. Check out the diagram below (from the excellent textbook Essentials of Geology by Steve Marshak, that I use in my Physical Geology course at NOVA) and follow along so you can see why this new concept startles me a bit (but in a good way):

There used to be a big ocean basin off the "east" coast of North America that closed via subduction over the course of the Paleozoic Era. This extinct ocean goes by the name of Iapetus. This was not a simple event: it was more like a pile-up on the highway than a simple head-on collision. This ancient ocean basin was not just empty ocean. It also included islands and small chunks of continental crust ("microcontinents" like modern-day Madagascar). First a subduction zone developed out there in the ocean, closing a portion of it. This brought a chain of volcanic islands closer & closer to North America. The islands hit North America (around 460 million years ago), in a mountain-building event called the Taconian ("Taconic") Orogeny. Once that had happened, a new subduction zone developed on the ocean side ("outboard") of the islands/accreted terranes. That began to close another part of the Iapetus Ocean. Around 360 million years ago, that episode of subduction ended when a microcontinent (dubbed Avalonia) smacked into North America. This collision caused more mountains to rise: the Acadian Orogeny. Then yet another subduction zone, outboard of the newly accreted Acadian terrane, kept the closure of the Iapetus Ocean going, until finally the continent on the other side of the ocean (Africa) smashed into North America, raising more mountains. This is the Alleghenian Orogeny (sometimes spelled "Alleghany"), which really crumpled up the landscape, starting around 300 million years ago. The moment the Iapetus died was the moment Pangea was born.

I go into all this because the model of plate tectonic convergence the Appalachians display is one that says collisions between plates don't stop the overall convergent forces. As soon as one subduction zone is snuffed out, a new one develops outboard of the continent, where the weaker, denser oceanic crust gets shoved downward.

But does it actually work that way all of the time? Silver and Behn suggest maybe not. Maybe it's an "on-again, off-again" affair. They cite among their evidence an earlier orogeny, the Grenville Orogeny, which sutured together many continents at a much earlier time (about a billion years ago). When that collision had ended, the supercontinent Rodinia was born. Silver and Behn note a lack of volcanic activity around the world for hundreds of millions of years after the Grenville Orogeny (most volcanoes are caused by subduction). Rodinia did eventually break up amid much volcanic activity (including the eruption of the mid-Atlantic's infamous Catoctin Formation), and giving birth to the Iapetus Ocean basin in the process -- but that didn't happen for a long time after Rodinia got assembled. What gives? Does that mean subduction was inactive during that period?

They also offer a modern example: India and the Himalayas. 20 million years ago, India was a microcontinent out in the Indian Ocean, with a pavement of oceanic crust separating it from Eurasia. India moved north, the oceanic crust got subducted, and eventually India plowed into Eurasia, raising the Himalayas. But why hasn't a new subduction zone developed south of India? That would be what would happen if India's orogeny were following the Appalachian example.

Maybe plate tectonics has periods of intense activity (lots of subduction), but then has periods where it's "clogged up," and the movement of the plates slows. Eventually heat builds up in the underlying mantle (the source of plate movement) to the point where the mantle begins to convect more vigorously, and the plates start getting dragged around again. It's kind of a cool notion. I'd be interested to hear what you think about it. Please post any thoughts you have in the comments section below.

The whole idea reminds me of the concept of punctuated equilibrium, a model of biological evolution which bucked the long-standing notion (originated by Darwin himself) that evolution proceeded slowly and methodically over time. Thanks in part to an eye-opening appreciation of the Earth's immense age, the prevailing wisdom was that evolution was gradual, smooth.

Then (in 1972) Niles Eldridge and Steve Gould published a landmark paper that suggested otherwise. Instead of "gradualism," they argued, changes in populations of living organisms may have happened suddenly, experiencing a lot of change in a short period of time. Once equilibrium was achieved, the new status quo was preserved as a non-dynamic scene for a long time. (See image at left, which came from Wikipedia).

They cited the fossil record as their primary evidence: most of the change seen in fossils is a sudden switch of biological "regimes," with new fossils showing up, lasting a while, and then abruptly vanishing. I'm oversimplifying here, but I hope the analogy is clear: if evolution can do it, why not plate tectonics? Is there any reason to think plate tectonic motion couldn't happen in spurts of more activity followed by periods of quiescence? Ponder it...

Reference: Silver, Paul G., and Behn, Mark D., 2008, Intermittent plate tectonics?: Science, v. 319, p. 85-88, doi: 10.1126/science.1148397.

For those without a subscription to Science, you can read the press release about Silver and Behn's work that Carnegie put out by visiting their website.

Labels: appalachians, evolution, iapetus, plate tectonics