When I look back on my four years of undergraduate geology education, the one thing that strikes me as the most important thing I learned is the age of the Earth. It sent my mind reeling to recognize what a huge old planet I was on, and how ephemeral was my own species' time on it. I was a blip, a temporary arrangement of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and a handful of other elements that would last a while, and then disassociate. Material and energy passed into me, and out. This kinetic chemical phenomenon known as me would soon pass, and the Earth would keep turning. The human species would reach its zenith, then collapse (or evolve into something else), and the Earth would keep turning. The continents would rift and crash and the map of the Earth would soon be obselete, and the Earth would keep on turning. Climates change, meteors hit, "rivers shift, oceans fall, and mountains drift" (REM, 1985), and still the planet keeps on spinning, keeps on orbiting, keeps on keeping on.

The day I really realized the age of the Earth wasn't the day I heard "4.6 billion" in lecture. It was the day I sat there studying and grasped it internally -- it clicked that it was immensely, unimaginably old. My temporary human mind was a short-time-scale phenomenon, and it was impossible for this small cerebral system to get a grip on the true scale of the planet's age. While I would never really know (comprehend/appreciate) the age of my planet, I tapped into something fundamental that day. Looking back on it now, I'm reminded of John Playfair's words when his pal James Hutton took him to Siccar Point for the first time: "The mind seemed to grow giddy by looking so far into the abyss of time" (1805).

When I made that cognitive leap (by essentially realizing it was impossible for me to fully make the cognitive leap), I got stuck on geology. I connected to the study in a way I hadn't done before. Suddenly I was subject to a dizzying temporal vertigo, as if a layer of flooring had crumbled away leaving me gazing into a bottomless pit. The realization gave a whole new perspective on things, and it was exhilarating. It felt like one of the conversations when you're getting to know someone, and realizing that they are both intriguing and yet never completely knowable. It draws you in, connects you. Without getting too gushy, it's kind of like falling in love. I've been a geologist ever since.

As I learned more, both in school and on later peregrinations around the world, I found that geology was a great traveling companion. No matter where I went, geology was there with me, showing me new things, giving me insightful perspective. I was looking at the world through geology-colored glasses, and finding that it had a lot to show me. The world made more sense on an elemental level. Hills made sense; rivers made sense; mountains made sense. While I couldn't claim to fully understand any of these phenomena, I could claim a connection to them now that wasn't there before. They were no longer random in my mind; they had a place in the overall system, and it took geology to make me realize it.

So this perspective has stuck with me, and it's what inspired me to pitch "geology as a connector" as this month's Accretionary Wedge theme. (Newbies: the Wedge is a semi-monthly geoblogosphere carnival wherein different geobloggers contribute posts organized around a central theme.) I was curious about what I would get, and I didn't want to restrict my peers' submissions by specifying what kind of connections should be written about.

Sure enough, different people interpreted connection differently. Tromping around in the mountains doing geologic mapping yields more than insights into local structure and stratigraphy, as BrianR of Clastic Detritus discusses how his field work has connected him to the messy reality that is nature.

Jess at Magma Cum Laude is starting her first semester as a graduate T.A., and is going to employ a teaching technique that connected her to the pervasive nature of geology: everything that the Earth puts out for the purpose of assembling Oreo cookies. Something as simple as an Oreo can be the vehicle through which students realize the manifold ways they depend on the Earth every day.

Where are the boundaries between sciences? Is geology a subset of environmental science, or physics? Or both? How do we define the different parts of Nature that we study? Using a Venn diagram, Hypocentre at Hypo-theses explores the connections between geology and other sciences, particularly in the environmental realm.

Similarly, Mel uses a diagram to explore connections in her post at Ripples in Sand. How does geology connect to paleontology? Join Mel in looking at the taphonomic bridge. (And wish her congratulations on her wedding while you're at it!)

Joining the crowd in her first Accretionary Wedge post, A Life Long Scholar (at The Musings of a Life-Long Scholar) makes a connection between the very small and the very large. In trying to answer questions about massive tectonic plates, sometimes geologists must turn to little bundles of mass a few micrometers across. Check out her post to see how garnets can reveal the secret histories of the continents.

And then there are the personal connections. In Looking for Detachment, Silver Fox was the first one to submit a post on the "connection" theme with her description of how different members of the mining and exploration community connect to one another over time and space (Nevada, of course). How do Charles Manson, Kevin Bacon, and exploration geologists all fit together? Read her post to find out.

MJC Rocks of the Geotripper blog has contributed a real treat: an exploration of the connection of geologists teaching geologists through time. It turns out that his academic lineage goes all the way back to Agassiz and Cuvier! A pretty impressive consideration which will surely inspire the rest of us to investigate our own geologic pedigrees.

Finally, over at Harmonic Tremors, Julian shares a story of how his knowledge of geology led him to make a personal connection with one of his cinematic idols, director Brad Bird. If you've seen the Incredibles, you're familiar with Bird's high quality entertainment. When Julian heard that Bird was working on a movie called 1906 about the great San Francisco Earthquake, he wrote a letter to clear up some inconsistencies in the book upon which the movie is based. The talented director took the time to write back to Julian, thanking him for the "seismic tutorial."

Enjoy the various and sundry posts -- follow these digital connections to other geologists in other parts of the world, and feel connected to the larger community of earth scientists. Thanks to everyone who contributed. If I've missed anyone or if anyone wants to submit a late post, give me a shout or post a link in the comments.
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References:
Playfair, John (1805). Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, vol. V, pt. III.
REM, (1985). "Feeling Gravity's Pull," Fables Of The Reconstruction, IRS records.

Labels: blogs, earthquakes, field trips, geology, metamorphism, minerals, mining, movies, plate tectonics, teaching

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

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