Labels: art, humor, mining

This is a short film made by one of my Rockies students as his final project for the class. Enjoy!

Labels: environmental, mining, montana, movies, ore

My student Joel recently went up to Clarion County, Pennsylvania, where he encountered this striking example of a stream contaminated with acid mine drainage (lifeless rust-filled stream at right) merging with an undegraded stream (at left). Wow:

Photograph by Joel Bosch.

Labels: environmental, minerals, mining, pennsylvania, water resources

Geological Society of Washington: Meeting 1432
Wednesday March 25, 2009

• Andrew Todd, US Geological Survey, Denver, Colorado - Abandoned Mines and Trout: The Interaction of Geochemistry, Metal Bioavailability, and Stream Ecology.
  
• Ian G. Macintyre, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC - The Almost Total Loss of Acropora palmata from Shallow Waters off Barbados, West Indies, Initiated by Catastrophic Destruction of a Major Bank-Barrier Reef off the Southeast Coast.
  
• Thomas J. Casadevall, U.S. Geological Survey, Denver, Colorado - Lusi: Long-lived Mud Eruption near Surabaya, Indonesia.

John Wesley Powell Auditorium, Cosmos Club
2170 Florida Ave NW
Washington, D.C.

Refreshments 7:30 pm; Meeting 8:00

Future meetings 2009: April 22 (Bradley Lecture); Sept. 23; Oct. 14; Nov. 4; Dec. 9.

Labels: environmental, fish, gsw, meetings, mining, reefs, volcano

Sorry for the late notice... this is for today at lunchtime.



Abstract: The Silver Hill Mine in Davidson County, North Carolina was the first important underground silver mine in America. Discovered in 1838, it produced significant quantities of silver and lead into the mid-1840's. As the oxidized ores were depleted, abundant, rich, lead-zinc sulfide ores were encountered. These complex primary ores presented the mine operators with difficult metallurgical problems. Mine development and production slowed. Nearly a decade passed as the owners experimented with new processing and smelting technologies. These efforts were largely unsuccessful and the mine closed in the early 1850's. The Civil War created an urgent need for lead to supply Southern troops. The Confederate government operated the Silver Hill Mine to provide an alternate source of lead in case the mines at Austinville, Virginia should fall into Northern hands. Lead concentrates with high silver values were shipped from Silver Hill to the newly constructed Confederate smelter in Petersburg, Virginia. After the War, the mine continued to operate for several years but the problems of the refractory sulfide ores were not solved and the mine closed again. For more than a century after production stopped, the Silver Hill Mine was the repeated target of both mining companies and stock promoters.

Where: Pier 7 Restaurant, 650 Water Street, SW, Washington, DC (within walking distance of the Waterfront Metro on the Green Line) Free parking with validation from Pier 7 Restaurant.

11:30 - Social 12:00 - Lunch 12:30 - Speaker

Meeting cost: $20.00 for Washington, DC Section SME members $25.00 for non-members

Contact Steve Stokowski with questions

Labels: dc, history, meetings, minerals, mining, north carolina

There's a proposal to turn the Luck Stone diabase quarry south of Leesburg into a big reservoir for increasingly-populous Loudoun County, Virginia. It would then be followed by other tapped-out quarries in the area. Collectively storing 8 billion gallons, the reservoirs could serve the surrounding area for up to 120 days during a prolonged dry spell. The idea is to create the reservoirs by siphoning of about 40 million gallons a day from the Potomac River, starting in 2017.

These diabase intrusions are mafic igneous rocks that intruded into the crust during the opening of the Atlantic Ocean. As Pangea broke apart during the Triassic and Jurassic, a huge system of sags opened up in the crust. These low spots were the sites of (a) intense sedimentation, since water flows downhill, and (b) mafic igneous intrusions, since the thinned crust allowed decompression melting of the underlying mantle. (Partial melting of an ultramafic source usually yields a mafic distillate.)

The entire system of failed rift valleys extends along the same trend as the Appalachians, but further east, all the way up to the Bay of Fundy. Collectively, they are called the Newark Supergroup, after one of the larger rift basins in Newark, New Jersey. Dirty sandstones filling that basin were the source of all the 'brown stone' that made the brownstones of New York City. Locally, in our own Culpeper Basin, the main rock that is quarried is diabase, which has a coarser crystal size than basalt, but smaller crystals than a gabbro. It is distinguished by a lot of pyroxene.

Source for the reservoir proposal news: Today's Loudoun Extra, from the Washington Post

Labels: atlantic, culpeper basin, jurassic, minerals, mining, new jersey, new york, news, triassic, virginia, water resources

My favorites from a recent raft of geoblogosphere posts:

• Field work on sedimentary rocks in the Dead Sea region of Jordan (from Nologic)
• Anomalocaris fossils (from Ediacaran)
• Charming but obsolete mining terms (from Hypocentre)
• Other cool stuff in a similar conglomeration from BrianR (at Clastic Detritus)

Labels: blogs, field trips, fossils, geology, mining

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.
________________________
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

A well-illustrated article by NASA's Earth Observatory discusses the issue of coal mining in Appalachia. Estimates are that we have 100 years or more coal reserves in the world -- far more than oil. The problem is, coal is dirty. Appalachian coal in particular is high in pyrite (FeS2), so that when it is burned, sulfuric acid is generated.

And then, of course, there is the issue of greenhouse emissions. When we heat or get electrical power from the burning of coal, we are reversing an ancient photosynthetic reaction. In the Carboniferous, great swampy deltas (much like the modern Mississippi Delta) stretched across what is today West Virginia. Great rivers draining the young Appalachians flowed west into a shallow epeiric sea. In these muddy deltas, plants grew in profusion. Those plants did what modern plants do: they sat in the sunlight and used its energy to fuse CO2 and H2O into sugars -- plant food. Before they got a chance to use that constructed food, and before any animals had a chance to eat the plants, they were smothered beneath additional layers of sediment, and the efforts of their photosynthesis were locked away underground. This went on for millions and millions of years. Now, humanity has discovered that coal burns well, releasing energy originally generated by the Sun 300 million years ago. Using coal for energy reverses the ancient photosynthetic reaction. When we burn coal, we are combining the coal's "carbohydrates" with oxygen, and re-producing the initial ingredients (CO2 and H2O) in the process. Of course, when water vapor in the air reaches a high concentration, it condenses and precipitates. Carbon dioxide is also removed from the atmosphere by geologic processes, but at a much slower rate. Hence the rise in atmospheric CO2 levels since the Industrial Revolution (when coal-burning picked up pace).

The Earth Observatory article deals with another issue, though: the question of how best to get at coal, given that it's underground in strata with other rock layers atop them. Every month, it seems like there is an item in the news about how there's been an accident in some underground coal mine somewhere in the world, always with a dozen or more miners killed or trapped. In West Virginia, strip mining is a favored tactic. It's safer to coal miners because it occurs at the surface, but there's the rub: The surface is also where everything else happens, too. When miners strip away the overlying rock layers, they also strip away the forest and everything that lives there. Often, unwanted rock is dumped into neighboring valleys, which causes a lot of stress on the freshwater ecosystems present in streams draining that valley.

Check out the article here. It is illustrated with great maps and satellite photos.

Labels: CO2, coal, global warming, mining, satellite imagery