Tuesday, I asked for my fellow geo-bloggers' favorite analogies, with a promise that I would share mine in 48 hours. The time of revelation is nigh... Here are a few of my favorite "geo-nalogies":

The continental crust is high-proof liquor
I see partial melting as a kind of distillation. Just as "sour mash" can be distilled to concentrate the alcohol it contains (separating it from the water it's dispersed in), so too can partial melting act as a "distillation" of the silicate earth. The minerals with the lowest melting temperatures will melt, leaving behind a solid residue enriched in Fe, Mg, Mn, and Ca, and yielding a magma that is enriched in Si, K, Na, and O. With its~granitic composition, the continental crust is 80-proof Jack Daniels. Where did it come from? It's distilled from the sour mash we call "the mantle":

Rocks are cookies
I love a good chunky cookie. Save your Oreos and Lorna Doones for yourself. What I really like is one of those cookies with chocolate chips, oatmeal flakes, raisins, macadamia nuts, and those sinfully good butterscotch chips. What I like about these cookies is not so much how they taste, but how I can tell the difference between the individual ingredients and the cookie they comprise. I use this analogy early on in Physical Geology to illuminate the difference between minerals and the rocks that the minerals comprise:

Continents are old sofas
Like many of us, I had an old sofa in college. The sofa was ripped, had been scratched by a cat, and had coffee spilled on it. It was draped in several layers of blanket in an attempt to cover up the lousy state of the upholstery. Someone added a pillow to the sofa at some point. When I was working for the C&O Canal National Historical Park (translating their geologic history into non-geology-speak), it struck me that the North American continent* was kind of like that old sofa. It had been scratched by glaciers instead of cats, and lava had been spilled on it kind of like that errant French Roast. It had rift valleys, but unlike the sofa's, North America's rifts didn't have springs poking out. New material had been added in the form of exotic terranes, kind of like that pillow got added to the sofa. And the blankets draping parts of the continent were made of sediment instead of fabric... but essentially the two were alike:

*Yes, I know that's the outline of the contiguous 48 United States, not North America the continent. So shoot me.

Tectonic plates are UFOs
In cross-section, a tectonic plate could be seen to have a profile kind of like a flying saucer. The thick part in the middle is the continental crust, but then it has a thin fringe encircling it (the oceanic crust). You can hardly blame a visiting Martian for feeling kind of attracted to it:

The Washington Monument shows geologic time
I didn't come up with this one... But read it somewhere (McPhee, maybe?) that I have since forgotten. Anyhow, the basic idea is that the Washington Monument's obelisk here in Washington, DC can show the difference between the Precambrian portion of geologic time (most of the monument, 88% of Earth history) and the Phanerozoic eon (post-Cambrian, 12% of Earth history). The little pyramid-shaped bit on top is the Phanerozoic. The thickness of a single sheet of paper draped on top of the tippy-top would represent the entire span of human history:

Okay, that's all I've got for today. What have YOU got?

Labels: geologic time, geology, granite, minerals, teaching

I led my "History Before History: The Geologic Saga of Washington, DC" tour twice this weekend as part of the twice-annual "Walkingtown, DC" weekend. The folks attending the tour both days were really cool, and were full of good questions. We covered the sedimentary origins of DC's rocks at the bottom of the Iapetus Ocean, their metamorphosis during Taconian mountain building, the intrusion of plutonic rocks, the erosion of those ancient mountains, the deposition of river gravels during the Cretaceous (together producing an unconformity), and the faulting of that unconformity sometime post-Cretaceous (probably Miocene). I'm kind of tired after all that geologic history, especially repeated twice in two days!



The photo above is of a boulder in Rock Creek Park showing all three members of the Georgetown Intrusive Suite, a series of igneous plutons that were intruded into the crust during late-Ordovician mountain-building. I like this boulder because it illustrates well two of the principles of relative dating: the gabbro must be older than the diorite, because there are xenoliths of the gabbro in the diorite (inclusions). You can't break off a piece of gabbro unless it already exists. The granite dike must be younger than the diorite, because it cuts across the diorite (cross-cutting relationships). You can't crack open diorite unless it already exists.

Just thought I'd share an informative little outcrop like this. Please ignore the white graffiti that mars the central part of the exposure. A pen at the top is circled to give a sense of scale.

I hope everyone had a relaxing weekend!

Labels: dc, granite, igneous, plutons, tourism, xenoliths

Yesterday morning, I took a jaunt with a local amateur geologist, Owen P., to go look at some outcrops in streambeds in and adjacent to Silver Spring, Maryland.

Owen wanted me to look at these surfaces, our local unconformity between foliated metamorphic rocks of the Piedmont below, and unconsolidated sediments of the basal Coastal Plain above (cell phone for scale):
The lower rocks are metagraywacke schist of the Sykesville/Laurel Formation (different aspects of the same thing, as far as I am concerned, and not worthy of two different formation names). They were metamorphosed during the Taconian ("Taconic") Orogeny, ~460 million years ago. These rocks were then eroded, and new sediments deposited on top of that eroded surface -- this is an unconformity like the ones I posted about over the past couple of days out in Wyoming and Arizona.

My host thought the layer above the unconformity might be tsunami deposits associated with the Chesapeake Bay bolide impact at 35.5 million years ago. However, that's not what I saw. Instead, the high proportion of angular quartz, and the fact that it was clast-supported rather than matrix supported, suggested to me that the upper layer was a gravel deposit from this very stream. It was good for me to see such a collection of angular clasts atop the unconformity -- on hilltops in DC, I'm used to seeing the Potomac Formation in this position. It's a Cretaceous-aged river deposit, with a real mix of sand, clay, and well-rounded (mainly quartzite) cobbles.

Another look (with cell phone for scale):


After I explained why I didn't buy the tsunamite hypothesis, but encouraged him to keep looking, Owen took me to another cool location, on Northwest Branch (a creek) just outside the Beltway at Burnt Mills Park. Here's a location map:


There, we found an outcrop of migmatitic metagraywacke very reminiscent of the one I visited on Four Mile Run in Arlington, VA, in March of this year. Cutting down, Northwest Branch has exposed a complex of clearly metasedimentary, clearly granitic, and not-so-clearly transitional migmatitic rocks. It's pretty cool, and not only because some of the potholes went all the way through the rock, making wormhole tunnels that a geologist can (and will) crawl through...


I found a couple of cool igneous contacts. Here's a dike of granite cutting through metagraywacke. I like this outcrop because it shows that these things are in fact filled-in cracks, and cracks have a propagating edge, a tip. Most granite dike exposures don't show this fracture edge, but this one does. In spite of the graffiti, it's a good look at that process caught in the act.


And here's a nice example of cross-cutting relationships. Host metagraywacke (notice the pebble-sized clasts of various lithologies in the upper left) is cut by two granite dikes: first a finer-grained, darker-colored one, and then by a coarser-grained, lighter-colored one. Beauty!


Thanks to Owen for showing me these outcrops -- I appreciate the interest and the invitation!

Labels: granite, maryland, metamorphism, migmatite, primary structures, sediment

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

On Saturday, I was due to take my Audubon class to the Billy Goat Trail. But, since we had so much rain earlier in the week, the Potomac was running higher than normal, and parts of the trail were flooded, so the Park Service closed it. I was ticked off that I couldn't take my students even on the non-flooded portions of the trail to show them pre-Taconian relict graded beds or Acadian lamprophyre dikes. But the NPS are sticklers for the rules, and there was one hyperenthusiastic volunteer standing guard to make sure we didn't venture onto the trail. So we didn't.

We walked another trail, the Berma Road, instead, which parallels the Washington Aqueduct from Great Falls down to the Old Anglers Inn. Along the way we saw plenty of metagraywacke, migmatite, and granite intrusions. Here's me pretending to 'hold up' up a massive metagraywacke xenolith in the Bear Island Granite:

We also saw a lot of structure, including boudinage, folds, and faults. While we didn't get to see some of the more striking features of the Billy Goat Trail proper, we made it work okay. And everybody in the class had a great sense of humor in regards to being kept off the BGT itself.

I thought this was a funny form of political protest:

Both photos by Audubon student Paula. Thanks, Paula!

Labels: granite, national parks, plutons, politics

Last summer, when I was out in Montana, I had a break of five days or so between classes, and so I headed out to Missoula to visit with my friend Noah. He and I went backpacking up to the Walton Lakes area, across the border in Idaho. We're walking across exposures of the Idaho Batholith here (Mesozoic felsic intrusive rocks, kind of like the Sierra Nevada Batholith in California). But probably the more striking thing is the topography, which has been beautifully sculpted by glaciation:

With a tarn in the background, here's Noah and his dog "Sanoma" (not the way I would spell it, but hey, it's not my dog...) walking along the ridge:


Sanoma with her doggy backpack:


Snowpack remains, even in July:


A nice view along the "knife edge" of an arete, the crisp slice of bedrock remaining between two glacially-carved valleys:


Noah and Sanoma standing on the arete:


Classic glacial topography: Note the arete (far right), cirque headwall (in shadow), tarn (lake in center), and end-moraine (light band at left).


We hiked down to that tarn and went swimming in it. Then we camped on the moraine that night, amid a great many mosquitoes. But the sunset was nice:

Labels: glacial landforms, granite

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

Later this month, I'm leading a tour for "Walkingtown, DC" a twice-annual event sponsored by Cultural Tourism DC, a nonprofit organization. My tour is called "History Before History: the geologic saga of Washington, DC." I'll be leading the tour on both Saturday, April 26, and Sunday, April 27, from 1-4pm. If you're in the area, consider coming along. We'll be discussing the deposition of sediments in the Iapetus Ocean, generation of an accretionary wedge, the Taconian Orogeny, the Rock Creek Shear Zone, emplacement of the Georgetown Intrusive suite, and finally the erosion of the young Appalachian mountains and the deposition of dinosaur-fossil-bearing river gravels atop the unconformity: the Potomac Group. As a bonus, we'll even visit a thrust fault which ruptures the unconformity at the intersection of Adams Mill Road and Clydesdale Place, NW. It's a nice little jaunt through prehistory. However, this hike was extremely popular last year: we had ~300 people show up! So I've asked Cultural Tourism DC to institute a reservation system this time around: I'm limiting participation to 30 people per day. Act now to reserve your place by calling or e-mailing Cultural Tourism DC.

Here's two pictures of the mad crowds last spring. I get the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it:

Labels: action, dc, dinosaurs, geology, granite, metamorphism, sediment

This past week, I stayed in Arlington, Virginia. My dad and stepmom were in London, and I was looking after my youngest siblings (both teenagers) by staying at dad's house and serving as the Responsible Adult. It's the same house I grew up in, and it has a lot of nice memories associated with it. At the end of the street, there's a little trail which leads off into the woods and downhill towards the Potomac River along a little creek called Windy Run. ("Windy" as in the weather, not as in sinuous, though it is that, too.) At the bottom, Windy Run launches off a waterfall and tumbles down into the Potomac Gorge. On Saturday morning, I decided to go take a hike down to Windy Run and reacquaint myself with the landscape and its rocks. Here's the view from the top of the waterfall looking across the river into D.C.


Here's a view of the waterfall from the side. The big ice-rimed log at the base is about a foot and a half in diameter, to give a sense of scale:

On the way down the trail, there lies a big boulder of quartzite. This is my first rock. By that, I mean that this specific boulder is the first time I learned to put a name to a chunk of the Earth: my dad taught me that it was quartz, and I committed the name to memory. Today I would note that it's milky quartz, indicating hydrothermal deposition. (Tiny inclusions of water in the crystal lattice scatter incoming light and make it appear white.) Its upper surface is covered in black lichen. Pondering it anew on Saturday, I wondered if learning the name of this boulder in the late 1970s was the first step leading to me towards my ultimate career as a geologist. Lens cap is 5 cm in diameter.


My "first rock" lies at the base of a hill, below a linear trail of other quartz boulders. This array likely represents a subterranean vein of hydrothermal quartz, a common feature in the Virginia Piedmont.


For instance, here's a big vein of hydrothermal quartz (center) cutting across the metagraywacke host rocks at the top of the Windy Run waterfall. It's about a foot wide, and emplaced at a ~20 degree angle to the regional foliation (which strikes ~N25E). The quartz vein is oriented approximately vertically, just east of true north.


Here's some more vein quartz in the metagraywacke matrix. Foliation runs approximately left-right across this image. Note how there are large bodies of milky quartz arrayed semi-parallel to foliation: these are probably best interpreted as boudins: the results when a tabular vein of quartz was broken into chunks, and these chunks were smeared out along along the foliation during mountain-building. Boudinage (the process of producing boudins) is a somewhat brittle behavior (breaking) and somewhat ductile (smearing): under the proper combination of high temperature and directed pressure, quartz can act like pizza dough. It's capable of being molded, but also capable of separating into coherent pieces. We call these "boudins" because they resemble sausages strung out in a row ("boudin" is French for sausage). Here, only one boudin is shown, but click here for some other examples. The boudin is about 3 cm in thickness, to give a sense of scale.

There are also smaller quartz-imbued veins (white arrows, extended with dashed lines) in this rock, cutting across foliation at nearly right angles. Note how the "infusion" of quartz along these thin fractures makes them more resistant to weathering (they stand up in high relief, as seen in the lower left). This set of small quartz veins was likely emplaced at the same time the rock was being squeezed during mountain building, for reasons I explain in the next photograph.

So here's my stress interpretation of this rock. The big blue arrows represent the principal stress direction. To simplify, you could think of one blue arrow as representing Africa and the other as North America, pushing on these poor oceanic sediments caught in the middle. The yellow arrows represent extension. As the rock gets compressed in from "top" to "bottom," it gets squished outwards left to right. This deforms pre-existing quartz veins by rotating them into parallelism with foliation, and also potentially boudinaging them into chunks like the big one. The green ellipse demonstrates this overall process. One way to accommodate the rock's stretching in the yellow-arrow direction is by opening up small fractures (like the ones on the left) which get infilled with quartz.


On my walk, I saw a couple of exposures of hydrothermal quartz that strained the definition: that is, they weren't all quartz. Instead, parts of them (~5%) appeared to be granite pegmatite. In this shot, you can see several large crystals of potassium feldspar set in the quartz. Large flakes of muscovite were also semi-common. Lens cap is 5 cm in diameter.


Here's another shot of the same phenomenon seen elsewhere on the trail: large crystals of potassium feldspar and muscovite set in the "quartz vein." At what point do we stop calling these quartz veins and start calling them pegmatite dikes? Is a single crystal of non-quartz enough to change our perception of the fluid from hot mineral-rich water to wet magma? Like many things in geology, these features indicate that phenomena like dikes and veins are on a spectrum between end-members. In other words, there are shades of grey in how these things form (in addition to how we interpret them). By the way, the greenish hue is algae, not epidote. Lens cap is 5 cm in diameter.


Granite dikes (including pegmatitic ones) are reasonably common in the Virginia Piedmont. Here, as a Windy Run example, is a small granite dike I saw in a boulder on my Saturday walk. Lens cap is 5 cm in diameter.


Tomorrow, I'll explore a rockslide I saw on Windy Run, as well as the nature of the metagreywacke itself. Stay tuned, rockhounds...

Labels: geology, granite, structure, virginia

Here are two examples (on opposite sides of the world) of places where a dark-colored host rock has been intensely fractured (maybe even "shattered") and then felsic magma squirted into and filled those fractures, solidifying into granite. In the first example, differential weathering has etched away the less stable dark-colored minerals of the host rock, exposing the more-stable granite dikes in high relief. I like the high contrast between host rock and intrusion, and the visual similarity between these two far-flung locations experiencing the same geologic process. That's uniformitarianism for you.

Lake Manapouri, near Te Anau town, southern South Island, New Zealand.

Photo by Andrew Birch.

Georgetown Intrusive Suite, exposed on Rock Creek Parkway, Washington, D.C.

Photo by Callan Bentley.

Labels: geology, granite