Today: I offer some photos I took in Boulder Canyon, Colorado, in June. These are all igneous rocks exposed in the Precambrian 'basement' rocks, brought to the surface by the Laramide Orogeny.

Directions: Drive to Boulder; go west up the main canyon into the Rocky Mountain Front Range.

Location map:


Granite pegmatite:


Contact! Granite pegmatite meets granodiorite:


Contact! Granite dike cutting across granodiorite (with one small mafic xenolith):


Contact! Mafic xenoliths afloat in granodiorite:


Put the previous two pictures together, and what do you get? My favorite outcrop of the whole excursion... Contact contact! A granite dike cutting across mafic-xenolith-bearing granodiorite. This would be a good practice photo for introductory level students to establish relative ages of the three different rocks shown:


Contact! More prosaic, but high-contrast... Granite meets basalt:


Epidote vein (Without any good reason, I love the color of epidote):


My Prius parked on the side of Boulder Canyon Drive:

Labels: basalt, colorado, granite, primary structures, prius, travel, xenoliths

Here's a few photos from the terrific drive-through geology exhibit called Dinosaur Ridge, near Morrison, Colorado (type locality of the Morrison Formation).

On the advice of my friend Michelle, I made a special detour to check out the area on my drive out west in June. It was worth on many levels, but my favorite part of the array of neat geology was this section, where you can see three-dimensional cross sections (if that's not an oxymoron) of sauropod footprints.

The idea is that when these sediments were wet and pliable, adult Apatosaurus (or a similar brontosaur) walked on by, sinking down into the wet sand and mud. Layers of sediment beneath were compressed (as if beneath a dropstone) and then a later deposit of sand filled in the "brontosaur bulges," preserving them. Now they are weathering out of the Dakota Hogback in relief!

Labels: colorado, dinosaurs, fossils, travel

Here's a quick recap of my cross-country journey, for those who are interested in such things.

I left Bozeman on Saturday morning, July 26, and drove east on the Interstate to Billings, then diverged southeast towards Little Bighorn. There, I verified a comment from a Lakota friend at MSU that with my new bushy mustache (see change in icon above), I look a wee big like George Armstrong Custer (Custer & his men were killed by Lakota and/or Cheyenne warriors). After a short picnic there, I kept driving across southeast Montana, and into northeast Wyoming. My goal for the night was Devils Tower, where I have positive memories from my "North by Northwesty" roadtrip two years ago. I got to Devils Tower in mid-afternoon, just in time for a wicked-looking thunderstorm to roll in. Pendulous looking mammatus clouds were hanging down, and the skies turned a darker grey than Lola. Rain and wind came through, and a big dead branch from one of the cottonwoods in the campground came crashing down, but not on anyone's car or tent. When the skies cleared up, I drove up to the visitor's center and took a walk around the tower. It's awesome: massive columns, some of them twenty feet across. The rock is a porphyritic phonolite, and it's quite pretty to look at: big feldspars (5mm) set in a fine-grained grey matrix. Lovely.

The next morning (Sunday), I headed for Red Bird, Wyoming (along Wyoming's eastern border), where Cruisin' the Fossil Freeway suggested there would be oodles of ammonites in concretions in the Pierre Shale, some a foot across. When I visited the Denver Museum of Nature and Science earlier this summer, Kirk Johnson reiterated to me that Red Bird was the place to go for ammonites. But once I got to where Red Bird should be (according to my road atlas), there were no highway signs indicating that the town existed. Worse, there were no outcrops, and no sign of public land. (And one thing that an amateur fossil collector does not want to do in Wyoming is trespass on a rancher's land.) So, no Red Bird ammonites for me. Oh well, no worries: I had collected ammonites from a tongue of the Pierre Shale (the Bearpaw Shale) earlier in the summer on BLM land near Glendive, Montana, and scored some good specimens there. I cruised south, stopping at the Sierra Trading Post outlet in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and dropping some cash on some new duds (STP is mainly a catalog business, famous ten years ago for their amazing deals, but the company seems to be shifting to more mainstream business nowadays, including multiple brick-and-mortar locations). Then another hour on the road brought me to Fort Collins, to the house of Larry Wiseman, where I stayed earlier in my trip. He and I got some pizza and 90-Shilling Ale (Odell's) and traded tales about our summers.


The next morning, we had coffee on Larry's front porch and watch the sun rise. I packed up and hit the road, heading for Kansas. In my rear-view mirror, the Rockies shrank and vanished from sight, a melancholy fade. Out into the plains... In mid-afternoon, I rolled into Oakley, Kansas, where I headed for the Fick Museum. The Fick Museum is interesting on multiple levels: it's got some stellar fossils from Kansas's Smoky Hill Chalk (member of the Niobrara Formation), like a Xiphactinus (massive fish) and a Tylosaurus skull (even more massive mosasaur). But it's also got some whacked-out art: the founder, Vi Fick, was into making art with local "art supplies," and so the walls show his portraits of eagles rendered entirely in rattlesnake tails (see image at right, from this online gallery), or his geometric arrangements of thousands of fossil shark teeth. There's even an oil painting Fick did of "God making the Cretaceous seas," which shows a bearded diety surrounded by flames (it kind of reminded me of Hindu art) making pleisiosaurs and pterosaurs. Not the usual way you see fossils displayed, or paleontology depicted!

At the Fick Museum, I met up with Ron Schott, doyen of the geoblogosphere, who graciously agreed to show me some cool Kansas geology. Ron and I headed south from Oakley towards Monument Rocks, an outcrop of the Smoky Hill Chalk. Ron was eager to gigapan the outcrop, and he set up the little device: essentially a robot that directs his camera to take high-resolution photos in a systematic grid. Pretty cool, really -- I guess I hadn't realized what a Gigapan really was before seeing it in action. I got to meet Ron's two little plastic elves that he uses for scale, and personally placed them on a ledge of chalk for the photograph. The grid of pictures eventually gets digitally stitched together by software, and available for sharing online.

From there, Ron and I headed back up to Oakley, stopping en route so I could collect a couple samples of the aquiferiferous Ogallala Formation, and then headed east, then south again, towards Castle Rock, another chalk outcrop. Here, we tested out my Prius' shocks on the dirt tracks, and checked out the largest cliff in Kansas (nearly getting blown off it by the intense wind), and then prospected for fossils below. I found some fish scales, and a shark tooth! Also inoceramid clam fragments, encrusted with oysters (apparently a common feature of the bottom of the Western Interior Seaway). No mosasaurs, though... Back to the road, and into Hays, Kansas, where Ron put me up in his guest room. We had dinner and a few beers at the Lb. Brewing Company, and thought about recording a PodClast, but then it slipped our minds. We discussed field trips, tenure, publications, and related topics. A good time! Thanks again to Ron for being such an excellent host.

The next two days (Tuesday and Wednesday) were essentially just driving. On Tuesday, I made it to Indianapolis, Indiana, and spent the night in a hotel there. On Wednesday, I turned north, and drove up into Michigan, and crossed into Ontario at Port Huron / Sarnia. Why go to Canada on my way from Montana to DC? Well, I'm teaching my Snowball Earth class this week at NOVA, and some of the rock samples I needed were stuck at Brock University in St. Catherines, Ontario. Usually they get shipped to educators who want to use them, but because of alleged border complications, I had to go get them myself; a five hundred mile detour! Fortunately, I have good friends who leave in Waterloo, Ontario, so I went and stayed with them. Mike and Natalie Leuty have been friends since 1996, and we had a good evening catching up. They have a sweet house in a suburb full of professorial types who teach at one of the several universities in town.

On Thursday morning, Mike and I had coffee on his front porch while his kids played in the yard, and then I packed up my kit and got rolling. I made it to Brock by 11am, and got the Snowball Suite. Because it's in a giant black case that looks suspiciously like a rifle case, I packed it under a pile of other gear in my car. At any rate, I crossed back into the United States without any static from customs officials, and rolled through Buffalo, New York (twice in one year!) I made my destination for the night Ithaca, New York, where I have a friend who's going to grad school at Cornell. I've never been to Ithaca, but I hear that it's "gorges" from many people. So I called my friend, Kathryn Werntz, and she was indeed around and accepting visitors, so I drove through the finger lakes region (five subparallel glacial troughs now filled with water), and found my way to her bungalow. Kathryn and I took a walk through Cornell's campus (two amazing gorges cutting through it), had some Indian food, and went to get dessert at Purity Ice Cream.

In the morning (Friday), I got up and we went to Gimme! Coffee for some caffeine. Thus fortified, I hit the road for my final day of driving. East to I-81, then south through Pennsylvania. At Harrisburg, I turned onto I-83, which took me to Baltimore, and from there it was a familiar zoom down the B-W Parkway into northeast DC. The dome of the Captiol was visible to my left, and then the comfortable sights of Florida Avenue and U Street. Up the hill, and a left on Harvard Street, and I was back in Adams-Morgan. Home! Finally!

Labels: appalachians, canada, chalk, colorado, field trips, glacial landforms, kansas, montana, national parks, new york, snowball earth, structure, travel, wyoming

After I got off the river at the Grand Canyon, I drove to Moab, Utah, where I have a friend from my days working outdoor education in southern California. Pete and I went swimming in Mill Creek (water + slickrock = awesome plunge pools) and checked out the sunset from the top of a dome of the Navajo Sandstone north of town. We had dinner at the Moab Brewing Company, which was delicious. The next morning, I checked my e-mail and got an oil change, then went up to Arches National Park to pay homage to Edward Abbey by taking a hike to Delicate Arch. They even have a small exhibit in the visitor center about Cactus Ed -- a nice acknowledgment on the part of the park that his book Desert Solitaire piqued interest in the park for many people.

After my hike, I got back in the car, and headed north to the interstate, then east into Colorado. Past Grand Junction and Delta, to the little town of Montrose, where I got final supplies for a couple of days in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. I pulled in relatively late in the day, so just settled into the campsite. It felt good to be camping at high elevation, with cool temperatures, again. The next day, however, July 4th, I spent in exploring the park. I was surprised to learn that there is no trail down to the bottom of the canyon from the rim, but they do let people descend via "the Gunnison Route," a steep-ass ditch full of loose scree and talus. It was pretty sketchy, and pretty exhausting: not much fun. I kept thinking "there has to be a better way to do this." The reward was at the bottom, where the Gunnison River runs cool and fast. The Gunnison has carved an incredible gorge here: steep, deep, and with a steep river profile. It's a classic case of steam superposition over a buried Laramide uplift. During the recent episode of uplift, the Gunnison cut down through overlying sedimentary strata (including the Entrada Formation's pink sandstone, visible on the north rim) and into the underlying Mazatzal-aged (~1.7 Ga) igneous and metamorphic complex. This resistant rock is what makes up most of the canyon. It looks a lot like the Grand Canyon's inner gorge, with pink ribbons of granite leaping through the amphibolite-grade metamorphics. Anyhow, the river was very refreshing. I rested there for a while, and ate some lunch (tortillas from nearby Olathe, Colorado, wrapped around mozzarella and turkey pepperoni.) The hike back up was a big slog, and about as enjoyable as the hike down ("There has to be a better way of doing this!") Up top, I drove the road along the south rim, admiring the various viewpoints into the chasm and taking small hikes.

The following morning, I packed up camp early, and drove all day. I went west back to Grand Junction, and took a cool little road (Route 139) north over Thompson Pass and through some cool BLM land, replete with pictographs. I got some GREAT gas mileage after Thompson Pass, basically crusing downhill at 100 m.p.g. for over an hour. Awesome! Then through Dinosaur, into Vernal, Utah, and then into Wyoming at Flaming Gorge.

At Rock Springs, Wyoming, I went north on 191, through Pinedale (nearby Fremont Lake is the type location for Pinedale Till, the Rocky Mountain version of the Wisconsin Glaciation), and up to Jackson. Man, Jackson's a tourist trap! Yikes! Not as bad as Vegas, but I definitely didn't linger with the sunburnt hordes there. I had a date with the Gros Ventre landslide. Just northeast of Kelly, Wyoming, this is a classic location in the study of mass wasting events. I camped on the lake created by the 1925 landslide, and spent the next morning photographing the scar and debris pile which dammed the Gros Ventre River. Unlike the Madison River's landslide and resulting "quake lake," no one was killed with the initial earth movement at Gros Ventre, but when the dam failed two years later, the resulting flood drowned six people in Kelly. I first learned about the Gros Ventre slide as an undergraduate, and I teach about it today, so it was a real pleasure to see it firsthand.

Next morning, a ho-hum commute through Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks and up into Bozeman.

Labels: colorado, montana, national parks, travel, utah, wyoming

Roadtrip update:

Yesterday was a good one. I started off the day at the Sternberg Museum of Natural History in Hays, Kansas. I was the first one in the door, and had the place essentially to myself. Massive mosasaur skeletons, supercool Uintacrinus slabs, plesiosaurs, and all kinds of other neat stuff. They had some less spectacular mineral displays, but the locally-derived fossils were world class. I was very impressed.

Then, driving. I made good time when the wind wasn't trying to stop me, and listening to Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything on my iPod, I crossed into Colorado. Eastern Colorado looks a lot like Kansas, of course, but before too long had passed, I got my first view of the Rockies in the distance, "rising from the plains." I got to the Denver area around 2pm, which meant I had plenty of time before the 7pm "Geography Goes Digital" event at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science (DMNS). So I headed southwest, towards Morrison, Colorado, and "Dinosaur Ridge." Dinosaur Ridge is a hairpin driving loop on/over the Dakota Hogback, showing Mesozoic sedimentary rocks shed off the Laramide Orogeny and into the Western Interior Seaway. There's an excellent display of dinosaur tracks, and lots of cool ripple marks, trace fossils, concretions, and stratigraphy. Looking out over the crisp dry air of the Denver Basin, I really felt like "Aha! I'm finally in the West!" It was a good feeling. After hiking and exploring there, I toodled into Morrison, Colorado, and went the Morrison Museum of Natural History. There, I had the terrific good luck to run into Matt Mossbrucker, who I mentioned reading about in Smithsonian magazine back in April. The museum's volunteers were on vacation, so I had the good fortune to have a personal tour from the director! Matt showed me a wealth of incredible fossils, including the type specimen of Stegosaurus, and footprints of baby Stegosaurus and Apatosaurus -- the latter tracks were the subject of the Smithsonian article. In case you (still) haven't read the article, it looks like these baby sauropods were capable of running on their hind legs like a basilisk lizard. Matt walked me through the logic, pointing at specific pieces of evidence on the massive slab of rock. Then we were out of time, because I had to get over to the DMNS for the "Geography Goes Digital" event.

At the DMNS, I was met by Kirk Johnson, the author of a book I mentioned here a month or so ago: Cruisin' the Fossil Freeway. My friend Michelle knows Kirk, and put us in touch. (Thanks, Michelle!) Kirk has been at the DMNS for more that fifteen years, starting as a curator of paleontology, and now as a vice-president. It was very cool of him to make time to see me. Immediately, Kirk introduced me to Bob Raynolds, the speaker for the "Geography Goes Digital" event. Bob and I talked a bit about geology and teaching, and then we scooted over to the Planetarium for the main event. I took a seat, leaned back and was amazed. It was like Google Earth on steroids; a feeling like looking down from the space station on Earth. Bob led us on an exploration of areas of the world that are showing the strain of coping with climate change. He has an astonishing amount of geographical knowledge (apparently, he has traveled to more than 50 countries to do geology) and it was a real treat to tour the planet with him and 150 of the DMNS's closest friends. Afterwards, Kirk took me and another friend-of-a-friend visitor on a tour of the museum. I saw the world's second-largest gold nugget, a massive crystal of rhodochrosite, and the incredible tour through time exhibit that Kirk put together when he first got to the museum. Starting with the Ediacaran, the exhibit went through time in a series of sub-exhibits. Each started with a diorama, and then showed the fossils that the diorama was based on. There were some INCREDIBLE fossils there -- absolute stunners. Kirk confided that's just how he wanted it -- not a thousand small fossils, but a few massive ones that just knock your socks off. It was very impressive. Around 10pm, I bade Kirk farewell, and left the museum. I drove up to Boulder, Colorado, and holed up in a hotel for the night.

I feel really lucky to have visited three amazing paleontological museums in one day, and to have had personal tours from the elite of Denver paleontology. Many thanks to Matt and Kirk for making time to show me around!

Now I'm off to check out Boulder, and maybe hike in the Flatirons above town. More later.

Labels: colorado, dinosaurs, fossils, kansas, minerals, travel

In preparation for my time out west this summer, my friend Michelle loaned me her copy of Cruisin' the Fossil Freeway, by Kirk Johnson and Ray Troll. It's a great read, and it's got me really psyched to start driving around the west, looking at geology. It also makes me wish for an informed local guide to clue me in to good outcrops.

I really liked this book. Johnson, a paleontologist with the Denver Museum of Nature & Science, narrates a 5,000-mile roadtrip travelogue about zipping around the western U.S. in search of fossils. Joining Johnson is Troll, a celebrated artist who makes clever art in several media. The book is light-hearted, well-informed, funny, and relaxed. I really liked it, and would recommend it to anyone with an interest in natural history, fossils, roadtripping, or Ray Troll's art.

Coincidentally, Geotimes reviewed the book in their May issue.
...And NPR beat them to it last fall.

Labels: books, colorado, fossils, kansas, nebraska, wyoming