It's been a while since I last posted about my time in Bishop, California, back in September, when I attended a GSA field forum on the structural and neotectonic evolution of the volcanic tableland.

For reference, here's a list of the previous posts about that trip:
...Faults of the volcanic tableland
...The Bishop Tuff
...The flipping fault

So, picking up where I left off, I thought it would be worth a post to mention the gorgeous drainage channels one sees etched into the top "Ig2" welded layer of the Bishop Tuff. These channels are interpreted as being Pleistocene in age, when the area was wetter than it is now.

Here is a photograph of the most spectacular of these channels, as viewed from the rim:

We visited this vantage on our second day in the field. A hiking path at the bottom of the dry channel imparts a sense of scale.

Here's a Google Map of the area from the perspective of a hawk:

Where the road comes most closely tangential to the canyon is the point where we stopped to take a look at it, and where the above photograph was captured.

Further upstream along the channel, we find it broken by normal faulting. Check out the view across this graben (a graben is a normal-fault-bounded valley, downdropped relative to the highlands next to it). There, you see the distinctive crescent-shaped profile of the drainage channel, but offset along several fault scarps:

There are three scarps on the far side of the graben, and an additional one that Peter is standing on, on this side of the graben. Just behind Peter, you can see a broken relay ramp, too. View is to the northwest; those are the Sierras in the distance.

Here is a Google Map of the area, showing the drainage channel crossing the graben. This conclusively shows that the channel must be older than the faulting which produced the graben.

This Google Map shares its southeastern corner with the northwestern corner of the first one I showed. You can see this for yourself by dragging either one in the appropriate direction. They both share the white-knuckled place where the road goes straight down the fault scarp, rather than sensibly down a relay ramp. That wasn't my favorite thing to drive.

Here's another drainage channel, similarly bone dry, that we visited in our fourth day in the field. Perspective is to the east: those are the White Mountains in the distance:


The Google Map shows a more interesting relationship this time. Instead of the faulting cross-cutting the channel's orientation, this channel approaches the graben to the southeast, curves around (deflecting from its original downhill course) and drops down the relay ramp to the northeast, into the graben (breaking up into multiple channels en route). There, it resumes its original downhill trajectory to the southeast:

This suggests that at least some of these faults were rupturing the "Ig2" layer at the same time that water was flowing over the surface (i.e. before the Owens Valley's climate dried out, post-Pleistocene). The stream's course and the faulting were coeval.

So what was the source of these streams? Did they originate on the volcanic tableland, or were they derived from the Sierra Nevada, prior to incision by the Owens River (which makes a deep canyon a mile or two west of here)? Fred Phillips, of New Mexico Tech, holds up a piece of evidence:

That is not a rounded cobble of the Bishop Tuff. That's a rounded cobble of granite. While the majority of cobbles in these channels are locally-derived chunks of the Bishop Tuff, there are also clasts which originated elsewhere, beyond the volcanic tableland itself. This suggests a source area with a granitic outcrop. One candidate location is Casa Diablo Mountain, north of the (south-sloping) volcanic tableland. Another possibility is the Sierras, to the west.

Another possibility entirely is that the source of the cobbles could be anywhere, and they were brought to the volcanic tableland not by streams but by paleoindians, who used them as grain-grinding stones in their metates.

Labels: california, conferences, faults, granite, pleistocene, rivers, travel, volcano, weathering

My post on Silver Spring geologizing caught the eye of NOVA Geoblog reader and geocacher James R., who was inspired to initiate a new geocache site on Northwest Branch. You can check out James' work here. ...And you can check out the rocks by visiting the site in person!

Labels: geomorphology, maryland, piedmont, rivers, websites

On our Historical Geology field trip to Washington, DC, this weekend, we were down at Chain Bridge Flats and saw some fresh flood mud deposited by the flooding Potomac. It was a gelatinous goo, like pudding, but had some lovely dessication cracks developing. Here are a couple of photos, courtesy of student Ana C., with a penny for scale in each:

Labels: primary structures, rivers, sediment

On his popular science blog Pharyngula, PZ Meyers has a regular series of posts called "I get email," (example) wherein he discusses e-mails he gets. I get e-mail, too (as I'm sure, so do other science bloggers of all stripes). Here's one I got the other day from Brian, a recent graduate from one of my many almae matres (oh yeah, I took Latin). I post it here in case anyone else is wondering the same thing:

I have a simple question for you... I was out at the Pimmit Run-Potomac
confluence collecting rock samples with that awesome chlorite/pyrite/garnet
assemblage and I encountered a couple pieces of unakite float. I'm just
wondering about its provenance. Your blogs seem to indicate that unakite is
typically found in situ farther west in the Shenandoah which would be a pretty
long way to travel (and pretty cool too!) although I believe there is Antietam
around Mather Gorge so I guess it's not impossible; unless it was
anthropogenically relocated which would be much less cool. A little insight
would be greatly appreciated so I can wow my friends when describing what is now the piece de resistance in my fish tank.

So I wrote back with this (links are additions, since I'm blogging it):

Yes, you could certainly have found some Blue Ridge unakite as float in the Potomac Gorge. I've seen many other Blue Ridge Formations as float on the bedrock terraces of the Potomac: Catoctin Formation, Harpers, Weverton, Antietam (like you mentioned), and something that looks a hell of a lot like the Old Rag Granite. I've found well-rounded bituminous coal cobbles, too! I've found unakite further out, in the Coastal Plain, as well as blue quartz (which is unique to the Blue Ridge). So I think it's quite likely you could have found some unakite.

Anyone else have any questions? Like PZ, I could make this a regular series. The more local and the more geo-centric, the better.

Labels: blue ridge, coastal plain, i-get-mail, metamorphism, piedmont, rivers, sediment

Definitely worth watching for Environmental Geology classes. (from the Times-Picayune)

Hat tip to Lisa for forwarding this to me!

Labels: louisiana, mississippi river, rivers, sediment

As a high school student in Arlington County, Virginia, I used to take regular hikes down a path called Windy Run, and then walk along the south shore of the Potomac River, upstream. It was in the days before I knew anything about rocks, and I was mainly appreciating other aspects of nature, like the plant life, the birds, the bugs, the salamanders, and occasionally something really cool like a raccoon. But I was aware that the scene I observed and enjoyed was not the same scene that had always persisted.

I heard rumors from my uncle about patches of woods inside the DC Beltway that preserved virgin forest -- giant trees that gave a hint of the former majesty of this eastern hardwood forest. I read about an eastern herd of bison that would migrate north and south through the Piedmont and Coastal Plain, crossing the Potomac near Alexandria (before we killed them all). I noticed a gazillion deer, and had it explained to me that the lack of predators like cougars and wolves resulted in the herbivores' population explosion. We used to have elk here, but European colonists had extirpated them. The last of the bison were killed off by 1800, and the final elk met a bullet around 1850. This used to be a pretty wild place!

I observed trash nearly constantly, often mixed obscenely with natural debris, sheathed in mud, or woven into birds' nests. Every few minutes, a jet airplane on its approach to National Airport would thunder overhead. Those of us who lived in the flight path would learn to automatically put conversations on "pause" during the 30 seconds it took for the planes to pass. Visitors didn't know what to do about the noise; it was too pervasive to be ignored. But live here long enough, and you learned to ignore it. You adapted, like the birds adapted by putting aluminum foil and plastic bags into their nests.

And the river itself? It's gross. In the modern day, it's constantly muddy and silty, with a foul-smelling sewage/sediment biofilm all over the rocks and logs in the water. There's scummy flotsam and rumors that you'll get a rash if you swim in it. There's people fishing down by Teddy Roosevelt Island, and you have to wonder why... They're not going to eat the fish they catch out of this polluted stream, are they?

The theme of this month's Accretionary Wedge is "time warp." The Wedge is a geoblog 'carnival,' though it's been inactive for a while, this month sees its return to 'accreting.' For those of you who are new readers to NOVA Geoblog, it's probably a great opportunity to check out some of the dozens of other interesting geoblogs out there. So what does this have to do with my reflections on the local woods, and the Potomac River? This month's Wedge host is Lockwood from Outside the Interzone. He asked geobloggers, "Where and when would you most like to visit to witness and analyze an event in Earth's history?"

I'm going to use my time travel experience to go back in time right here, in Washington, DC. I want to go back to 1491*. I want to see what my home looked like before European settlers showed up and brought their particular brand of industrialization / civilization / land use changes / ecological perturbations to the Potomac River valley. It may surprise readers to learn that I'd opt for this -- a simple experience of pre-colonization North American nature -- over something tectonic and structural, but that's what calls to me on a deep, emotional level. I want to see a vibrant ecosystem with big trees. I want to see the water of the Potomac River look like water; I want to go swimming in it. I want to see what bird migration looked like before it dropped off so precipitously. I want to see a passenger pigeon, a carolina parakeet. I want to see for myself what a healthy amphibian population looks like. And bison fording the Potomac in Alexandria... perhaps emerging from the clear water with the autumn colors ablaze on the far side of the river? That would just be... awesome.

* Note that there's a good book by this same name, on this same theme, 1491. The book makes the case that there was already a lot of landscape/ecological modification playing out before Europeans arrived: that native Americans played a significant role in messing with natural systems and we shouldn't imagine an ecological paradise, just less of an ecological disaster.

Of course, going back to 1491 may have some negative aspects to it: there would be malaria endemic to DC at that time, and the native tribes might not take kindly to a time traveler popping in to ogle their forested homes. But I'll take those risks (they exist today in other places I've visited), since the pay-off would be such a profound deepening of perspective.

If I had the ability to go back in time, I'd use it to gain experience with pre-colonial North America. I'd check out the same river banks I would walk 500+ years later, and see what we've lost.

...And, once I've seen that former world, I can't guarantee that I'd come back.

Labels: amphibians, birdies, blogs, dc, environmental, geologic time, mammals, piedmont, rivers, virginia

...from Geo Slice. Watch the whole thing. I recommend Yo La Tengo for the soundtrack, but regardless of your particular musical background, you will be impressed.

Labels: floods, music, rivers

I shot these two videos this weekend from the Billy Goat Trail. They both show the surface of the Potomac River, decorated with little blobs of foam. As the river flows, the blobs of foam record the flow and deform in distinct patterns. I am reminded of the processes that must have occurred in the very rocks I was standing on to take these videos. (See the previous posts on boudinage, folding, and texture in migmatites.) You can see foliation developing, shear zones, folding, and even boudinage. The blobs of foam are acting like more competent geological units (feldspar or garnet porphyroclasts, for instance), while the intervening water is less competent (easily flows out of the way, like quartz or calcite under sufficient pressure).



This one really shows boudinage well. Track the big blob that gets "fed" into the shear zone a few seconds into the video. As deformation proceeds, it separates into three augen-shaped chunks that then move apart along the plane of foliation (which is itself deformed).




A note of caution: these foam blobs are not perfect analogies for the flow of rocks at depth. The dynamics you're observing in these videos are playing out on a two-dimensional surface where water meets air. Because its density is intermediate between the water and the air, the foam stays at this surface, though the water in between the blobs is free to circulate downward into the river if conditions demand it. In real rocks, the deformation would be a three-dimensional phenomenon, and hence a bit more complicated.

Labels: analogies, rivers, structure

Here's some photos from today's Physical Geology class field trip to the Billy Goat Trail. It actually snowed on us a little bit... cold! My student Luke O'Neil took all of these, hosted on his Facebook page, and this is an experiment to see if I can post Facebook photos on my blog... keeping my fingers crossed...

Migmatite:


Il profesore showing tilted tree trunks (knocked in a downstream direction during floods):


Folded graded bed in metagreywacke:


Students circle around an exotic boulder of the Catoctin Formation greenstone (from the Blue Ridge province); the boulder was transported downstream by the ancestral Potomac River when it was flowing on the Bear Island strath, before incision and abandonment of the former river bottom to become a bedrock terrace:

Labels: field trips, geology, maryland, national parks, nova, piedmont, rivers, teaching

Wow... I can't believe it's taken me so long to process through my Billy Goat Trail photos from a month ago! Here's the final batch: a collection of images of potholes. Here's a typical pothole in metagraywacke of the Mather Gorge Formation:



Differential etching of the mica-rich and quartz-rich layers suggests that sand or silt is responsible for much of the carving of potholes: picture a liquid tornado with suspended grit, focusing abrasion on a specific area of the sub-river bedrock. Later, the brittle fins of quartz may be snapped off by shearing stresses when larger clasts smash into them, such as the pebbles and cobbles seen above.

Here's a trio of itty-bitty potholes in migmatite:


And, lastly, a nice waterfall-carved (now dry) series of chutes and plunge-pools, again carved into migmatitic metagraywacke:


...And a more zoomed-in shot to give a better sense of the complicated topography here:


I'm heading out on the Billy Goat Trail again today, and also Thursday and also Friday... a busy week of field-tripping. Hope you can make it outside too!

Labels: geomorphology, hydrodynamics, rivers, sediment

GSW Spring Field Trip: Sunday, May 17, 2009

The Potomac Gorge: An Extraordinary Meeting Place of Geological and Biological Diversity

Led by: Tony Fleming, Natural Areas Geologist, and Gary Fleming, Vegetation Ecologist, Virginia Department of Conservation and Recreation

The Potomac Gorge between Great Falls and Georgetown is recognized as one of the most biologically diverse sites in the eastern United States, with an unusually large concentration of rare flora, fauna, and natural communities. For more than a century, the gorge has also enjoyed an iconic reputation as the region's premier geological area, both for its exceptional exposures of Piedmont bedrock and the complex tectonic history they reveal, and for the natural fluvial cycle of flood disturbance that still operates on the Potomac, the only Fall Zone river of its size whose flow is not altered by dams. Geology and ecology converge on this field trip, as we visit two sites where geologic processes exert a powerful influence on the distribution of unusual natural communities. At Turkey Run Park, we will hike past steep boulderfield communities and regionally rare sugar maple/mixed mesophytic forests more typical of New England, here growing on soils weathered from basic intrusive rocks in a cool microclimate created by processes driven by Pleistocene glaciation and the ongoing southward migration of the Potomac Valley. Chain Bridge Flats, by contrast, is a unique flood-scoured bedrock terrace hundreds of hectares in size that displays a complete ecotone of communities adapted to progressive changes in the form and intensity of natural flood disturbance as one approaches the river. Among these are disjunct, prairie grasslands containing calcium-loving plants more typical of the Midwest and Great Lakes. This site also is the largest and cleanest exposure anywhere in the Piedmont of the Sykesville Formation, the enigmatic and often inscrutable submarine trench deposit from the Taconic subduction zone that makes up much of the local bedrock. Here, a phenomenal array of textures, exotic inclusions, mega stratification, volcanic detritus, and metamorphic features can be seen together at a clarity and scale unlike anywhere else, providing insights into the origin of this enormous sedimentary melange.

Key Topics: Ecogeology; Georgetown Intrusive Suite; Sykesville Formation; Pleistocene and Holocene history of the Potomac Gorge; weathering, ground water, and nutrient cycling; flood frequency and dynamics

Field Trip Details: Hike departs promptly at 9:30 AM from lot C-1 at Turkey Run Park, and will follow the Potomac Heritage Trail towards Dead Run, returning to the parking lot by around noon. Eat lunch at the picnic area overlooking the old soapstone quarry at Turkey Run, before driving across the river to Chain Bridge Flats. Afternoon hike will depart around 1:30 from the parking area on Clara Barton Parkway immediately north of Chain Bridge, and will follow the towpath and ACE spillway out to the flats. Return by 4 PM. Expect spring wildflowers, poison ivy, some steep grades at Turkey Run, and rough terrain involving scrambling on rocks at Chain Bridge Flats. Sturdy footwear is a must. Bring lunch, snacks, and water. Restrooms are available at Turkey Run Park, but not at Chain Bridge Flats.

Questions? Contact Bill Burton at bburton@usgs.gov

Labels: field trips, gsw, piedmont, plants, rivers

Yesterday, I took a three Honors students and a colleague to Difficult Run, Virginia. This is a hiking trail that goes from Georgetown Pike, in the tony neighborhood of McLean, Virginia, down through a deep, steep river valley to the Potomac River.

As noted a couple days ago, the trail is right across the Potomac River from my beloved Billy Goat Trail. In a recap from that post, here's a map of the area... Feel free to switch it to "satellite" view.



Some discussion of the bedrock geology of Difficult Run can be found here, in an excellent field trip guide by Scott Southworth (USGS) and colleagues that's part of Excursions in Geology and History (Frank Pazzaglia, editor).

We began our trip by meeting up with Doug Dupin of the Palisades Museum of Prehistory, who joined us for our exploratory geohike. We walked a short distance down the trail and found a big (abandoned) quarry where it was rumored there was a good fault. This is one of these pieces of information that I heard somewhere, at some point. I couldn't find it in any literature, so maybe I heard it in discussion when I taught at George Mason University for a year between grad school and when I got my position at NOVA. Anyhow, I had never actually checked it out...

...So our first order of business was to review the criteria for identifying a fault: What would we look for? Fault breccia, fault gouge, slickensides, hydrous mineral veins, and of course, offset. However, here in the Virginia Piedmont, it's rare to have a good marker unit to compare on opposite sides of the fault: usually it's just schist on one side, schist on the other. In some places, you could add the presence of a fault scarp to that list, but being as how this was an old quarry, geomorphic features like that didn't seem likely. So our search focused on the search for fault breccia, fault gouge, veins of odd minerals, and slickensides.

A few minutes in, we found some slickensides on this boulder of float:

This is a boulder of migmatitic phyllonite, with a wavy texture due to mylonitic flow at depth. (The picture doesn't show this very well at all, though you can see faint undulations 'cascading' from the top of the photo towards the bottom. It's much clearer in cross-section.) Anyhow, the 'slicks' are a faint upper-left to lower-right lineation seen on this surface, one or two degrees off from the orientation of the ballpoint pen. The surface you're looking at here was a fault plane at some point in its history. Ballpoint pen for scale.

We did eventually locate the fault, uphill from this boulder. It was characterized by a zone of fault gouge (pulverized rock), three inches wide to a foot wide in places, and highly oxidized (presumably by oxygen-rich meteoric waters percolating along this fractured surface)... but there were no good marker units to judge the total offset.

Here's a different section through a similar rock (though I wouldn't apply the "phyllonite" textural description to this one). Instead of looking at the plane of foliation here, we're looking at a surface which is perpendicular to the foliation plane(s)....

Here in this image, you can see two cleavages... One which runs roughly upper-left to lower-right through the photo, defined by gneissic banding including bands of granite (light-colored; late Ordovician in age... Taconian Orogeny). A second cleavage runs roughly left-to-right through this photo. This second cleavage overprints the first. The overall interpretation is that the first cleavage developed due to lower-left-to-upper-right compression, forming the foliation defined by alternating bands of different compositions of minerals in an upper-left to lower-right direction. The second cleavage formed due to compressive stress sub-parallel to the pre-existing foliation, deforming it into a series of tight folds. The limbs of these folds line up parallel to one another, defining the second-generation, overprinting cleavage. Can anyone else add to this interpretation? Dime for scale.

Along Difficult Run itself, the outcrops were all relatively recently scoured (in 1972 by Hurricane Agnes), so there are some good exposures. As I noted earlier this week, the area shows some nice exposures of granite pegmatites (keys, and the edge of the Pazzaglia volume, for scale):


On our field trip yesterday, we took at closer look at these beautiful pegmatites, and the associated amphibolite bodies. Take a look at this close-up... Dime for scale.

What's going on here? You've got a beautiful (euhedral/subhedral) example of an orthoclase feldspar ("potassium feldspar") crystal amid a bunch of quartz. But look closer at the feldspar crystal... this sucker has been fractured in many places, and it's shot through with very small veins of quartz. Somehow, as this pegmatite dike was cooling, the earlier-crystallizing feldspar was broken and intruded by the presumably-still-fluid silica-rich magma. Anybody able to expand on this interpretation and shed some light on how this all played out? Or contradict it and give a different story to explain this relationship?

In the neighboring amphibolite, we checked out these cool ridges of resistant rock which are centered on thin fractures. Here, you see a couple of intersecting joint sets, each of which was the "plumbing system" for silica-rich hydrothermal fluids (my interpretation). These silica-rich hydrothermal fluids impregnated the surrounding amphibolite with quartz, which made the immediately-adjacent areas more silica-rich, and hence more resistant to weathering and erosion: Hence, now that they've made it to the surface, they're weathering out in high-relief. Dime for scale.


A bit further downstream, Doug showed us a 'cave' (central dark area, just to the right of the waterfall) between the bedrock and a big slab of sloughed-off migmatitic metagraywacke:

We each edged into the 'cave' to the end, where Doug has shown that a distinctly-rectangularly shaped hole admits a direct beam of sunlight during the fall and spring equinoxes. From the inside, it's a striking arrangement, enough to make you wonder whether it's anthropogenic. However, from the outside I was unconvinced that the hole's position was anything other than natural. Doug's initial intepretation of the site was strongly influenced by the fact that there are some unambiguous petroglyphs a short distance away from here, and based on this proximity, I think it's acceptable to infer that Native Americans may have visited this cave. However, I interpreted the opening to be completely natural, with no need to invoke anthropogenic modification in any way.

We hiked on along a ridge overlooking Mather Gorge, sighting a fox and an accipiter (Coopers? Sharp-shinned?) and a few vultures, and returned to the parking lot as the sun dipped low in the sky. On the way back to campus, Honors students Ana and Hope fed us Swiss cookies and cheese & crackers. Altogether, it was a pretty great way to spend a November afternoon...

Labels: birdies, faults, field trips, granite, igneous, metamorphism, ordovician, piedmont, rivers, virginia

This week, I'm taking some of my Honors students to Difficult Run, Virginia.

It's right across the Potomac River from my beloved Billy Goat Trail. Here's a map of the area:



Some discussion of the bedrock geology of Difficult Run can be found here, in an excellent field trip guide by Scott Southworth (USGS) and colleagues that's part of Excursions in Geology and History (Frank Pazzaglia, editor).

Here's a look at Difficult Run, looking upstream from below one of the several waterfalls there:



These outcrops were all relatively recently scoured (in 1972 by Hurricane Agnes), so there are some good exposures. We're going to look for a fault reported to be there, as well as the incision geomorphology of Difficult Run itself, and some nice exposures of granite pegmatites (keys for scale):





This field trip is less a guided tour, and more of an exploration, so I hope when we get back, I'll have some photos of new and interesting things to share.

Labels: faults, granite, igneous, metamorphism, ordovician, piedmont, rivers, virginia

Yesterday was the Geological Society of Washington's fall field trip. A group of about twenty of us went down to George Washington Birthplace National Monument, a stretch of land in the Virginia Coastal Plain, about an hour east of Fredericksburg. The trip was lead by Wayne Newell of the USGS in Reston and Rijk Morawe of the National Park Service.

Here's a map of the Monument, adjacent to a small bay formed as the valley of Popes Creek flooded with post-glacial sea-level rise (essentially the story of the entire Chesapeake Bay in miniature):


Wayne and Rijk are studying the coastal processes here in an attempt to use the Popes Creek as an analogue for Chesapeake Bay processes in general. One of the reasons they really like it is because unlike other small bays in the area, it has a spit (almost a baymouth bar) protecting it from the ravages of the tidewater Potomac (which it flows into). Here's the spit heading southeast across the mouth of Popes Creek Bay:


This rotted old wooden seawall was erected along the coast in the 1960s. This is on the Potomac, just upstream from the Popes Creek Bay. Effectively, this seawall serves as a "before" line, a marker which conveys the shoreline's former position. You can see how much erosion has taken place since then:


I'm less interested in these coastal dynamics, though, than I am in the bedrock geology. There were some bluffs along the river which exposed the Miocene Calvert Formation (clay-rich lower unit) topped by a foot-thick diamictite unit, and then well-rounded river gravels on top of that:


Here's Merily (sp?) from AGI checking out the sequence of strata:


My favorite part of the trip was looking at the variety of cobbles on the beach. These cobbles are derived from all of the mid-Atlantic's physiographic provinces within the Potomac River's watershed (Valley & Ridge, Blue Ridge, Culpeper Basin, Piedmont, Coastal Plain). All those physiographic provinces have been weathered to produce the sediment that the Coastal Plain is made of. In spite of their diminutive size, they give insights into the geologic history of Virginia over the past billion years. So if you're familiar with Virginia geology, you will see some familiar rocks here.

For instance, there were a lot of these Skolithos-bearing quartzite cobbles. These are pieces of the Antietam Formation, a meta-quartz-sandstone that crops out in the Blue Ridge province, many many miles upstream:


Skolithos is the name given to vertically-oriented cylindrical burrow trace fossils, which start showing up in the Cambrian period of geologic time, indicating the evolution of vascularized bodies among animals. They are usually interpreted as worm burrows. This cobble shows several different diameters of Skolithos tubes:


Here's a cobble of another distinctive Blue Ridge rock. This amygdular meta-basalt is a piece of the Catoctin Formation, a sequence of (mainly) mafic lava flows that erupted as the supercontinent Rodinia was breaking up in the Neoproterozoic era of geologic time. The white spots you see are amygdules: vesicles that have been filled in by mineral deposits. When lava erupts, it degasses. If the lava cools into extrusive igneous rock before the bubbles have a chance to pop, little round holes are preserved in the rock, like Swiss cheese. We call these "vesicles." When vesicles get filled in with deposits of minerals (from groundwater passing through the rock), they are called "amygdules," from the Latin for "almond," which I guess they resemble in an ellipsoidal sort of way:

(I showcased a very similar cobble here in March of this year.) Like the Antietam Formation cobbles, this Catoctin Formation cobble originated in the Blue Ridge province, and has tumbled dozens of miles downstream to end up out here on the Coastal Plain.

Here's one from even further away! This is a cobble of flint from one of the limestone units out in the Shenandoah Valley, the easternmost valley of the Valley & Ridge province. (I've previously posted on those rocks, too.) While the limestone which originally hosted this flint nodule has weathered away, the flint is microcrystalline silica: very hard, very chemically stable. It's a common cobble to find surviving out here in the Coastal Plain:

We also found some rocks that are distinctive occupants of the Culpeper Basin, a Triassic-Jurassic rift valley upstream. Here's a chunk of the Manassas Sandstone Formation, another rock that has been previously mentioned on this blog:


The rock I spend most of my time thinking about is the metagraywacke of the Mather Gorge Formation. (For one mention on NOVA Geoblog, click here.) Here's a piece of it that looks identical to the rocks you'll see near Chain Bridge, DC, or along the Billy Goat Trail (Potomac, Maryland):

This rock was metamorphosed ~460 million years ago, in the late Ordovician, although the original sediments are older than that: perhaps Cambrian or late Neoproterozoic in depositional age. This sample even had a little bit of hydrothermal quartz stuck to it, a common feature of Piedmont metamorphics...

Having covered clasts derived from the Valley and Ridge province, the Blue Ridge province, the Culpeper Basin sub-province, and the Piedmont province, there's nothing left in the Potomac River watershed except for the Coastal Plain itself. And sure enough, we saw Coastal Plain clasts too. Here's a chunk of the Calvert Formation that GSW Field Trip Chair Bill Burton found: He cracked it open and found a shark tooth fossil inside:

This is the first time I've ever seen a tooth preserved as a carbon film. Except it wasn't really just a film, it was more a three-dimensional external mold with a carbon film, and little nuggets of carbonaceous material rattling around inside. Shark's teeth are pretty common in Miocene deposits on the Coastal Plain, including C. megalodon teeth, but this style of preservation was pretty novel for me. If you're into fossil collecting, don't go to George Washington Birthplace National Monument, because collecting isn't allowed there. However, nearby Westmoreland State Park offers legal fossil collecting opportunities. It's about ten minutes further south.

I'd like to thank the field trip leaders and Bill Burton for organizing the trip. I enjoyed the excursion!

Labels: coastal plain, field trips, flint, fossils, gsw, rivers, sediment, virginia

The largest meteorite (or maybe comet?... we don't really know which) impact crater in the United States is in Virginia, underneath the lower Chesapeake Bay. In the Eocene, a large bolide (unidentified space chunk) slammed into the Earth. Dating of microfossils found in the same sedimentary layers as impact ejecta have provided a date of ~35.5 Ma for the event. The impactor hit on the continental shelf offshore of Eocene Virginia, carving through the Atlantic-deposited sediments there and gouging into the crystalline bedrock beneath (igneous and metamorphic rocks like the modern Piedmont province, but buried beneath Coastal Plain layers).

The crater was discovered over a ten-year process that began with offshore sampling near Atlantic City, New Jersey in the mid-1980s. Those drill cores came up with a layer of ejecta (including shocked quartz and little beads of glass called tektites) among the late Eocene layers of sediments. Searching around, eventually the crater was seismically imaged by oil exploration in the Chesapeake Bay in the mid-1990s.

Centered on Cape Charles, Virginia, the crater is about 50 miles across, but appears wider as sedimentary layers adjacent to the hold have slumped inward along listric faults. The James, York, and Rappahannock Rivers all trend into this depression, and ultimately the crater is probably responsible for the Susquehanna River taking on its southerly course. When sea level rose and flooded the valley of the Susquehanna, the Chesapeake Bay was formed.

A similar impact structure offshore of New Jersey, the Toms Canyon Impact Crater, may have formed at the same time as the impactor broke into pieces before impacting.

The lead-off image to this post is by the team at the U-Haul trucking company, which performs a terrific public service by finding out interesting things about the different states (and Canadian provinces) and posting them on the sides of their trucks with eye-catching graphics. A great many of the topics they choose are about geology, from minerals to fossils to impact craters to cartography and canyons. A while ago, I wrote an article for Geotimes looking at their program.

More information on the crater:

Wikipedia's entry on the crater.
W&M Geology Department's page about the crater.
USGS team examining the crater.
National Geographic article (2001).

Labels: art, cenozoic, coastal plain, geology, meteors, new jersey, piedmont, rivers, virginia

Labels: appalachians, geology, piedmont, rivers

Sorry for the long delay in posting here. Turns out they don't have Wi-Fi at Phantom Ranch.

After my time in Zion (did Angels Landing and a few other small hikes while there), I scooted down to Las Vegas, Nevada, to pick up my father and two brothers. They had flown in there, and after one day were already tired of the city. I was ready to leave five minutes after I got there, which is always how I feel about Vegas. Somehow, circumstances keep conspiring to bring me back there, though...

We drove out of the Basin & Range and up onto the Colorado Plateau, and spent the night at Cliff Dwellers, a lodge near Marble Canyon. I was really impressed with their food and drink. We had an amazing meal, washed down with several pitchers of Newcastle Brown Ale! In the morning, we gathered up our gear and put onto the river. Our trip consisted of two rafts outfitted with side tubes and motors and guides. One raft was entirely made up of a family from Charlotte, North Carolina, including the glass artist Wayland Cato, III. The Bentley's raft was augmented by a family from Littleton, Colorado, two oil men from Oklahoma, and a couple of veteran river rafters from northern California. It was a motley crew, but we started having fun immediately.

We launched at Lees Ferry, in the Kaibab Limestone, and then descended in both elevation and geologic time. At our first lunch stop, in the Coconino Formation, I was astonished at several synapsid reptile trackways protruding from the underside of the paleo-dune slipfaces overhead. I took some photos, but because of the aforementioned software issue, I won't be able to share them until I get back to DC in August. As the first couple of days went by, we just went deeper and deeper into the Paleozoic stratigraphy of the Colorado Plateau. Of all the formations, my favorite was the Bright Angel Shale, which has many beautiful colors in thin layers throughout (not to mention oodles of trace fossils). I was particularly pleased to play frisbee in a "cave" in the Redwall Limestone, a place that I have shown photographs of to my students, but never actually seen before. It's a HUGE cliff of the Redwall, and then this seemingly small cave etched into its base (and filled with sand), but the cave could easily swallow my building at NOVA: it's big!

At some point, we crossed a major fault, and were instantly dropped down about a billion years in geologic time. Once we got into the Grand Canyon Supergroup and the metamorphic and igneous basement rocks, my geologic interest really went wah-wah. The Vishnu Schist and Zoroaster Granite make a stunning contrast: really beautiful pink cutting across dark grey. I introduced my raft-mates to the idea of the Mazatzal Orogeny, and we discussed how boudinage forms. There were faults and folds galore: structural paradise. I loved it.

Did I mention the rapids? There were rapids. The water was COLD, thanks to Glen Canyon Dam(n). But the sun was hot, and we dried out quickly. Meals were gourmet, though the campsites were spartan (you had to poop in a box that got packed onto the raft each morning: leave no trace!). We slept out under the stars every night, sometimes dealing with blowing sand.

We took several hikes up side canyons to see waterfalls and go swimming. Several of these were good and physically challenging, which is what I wanted. I enjoyed swimming and playing "three-dimensional frisbee" in Havasu Creek, and doing cannonball jumps in the weird blue of the Little Colorado River.

The final day on the river, we came to the western section of the Canyon where recent lava flows (basalt) have cascaded over the rim and down into the canyon. This is famous for producing one of the toughest rapids in the whole Grand Canyon: Lava Falls. But it was awesome to float by and see umpteen gazillion columnar joints, and whole feeder canyons plugged up by basalt. Pretty cool!

Our final morning, we were helicoptered out of the Canyon to a ranch on the rim. This was my first time in a helicopter, and it was giddy and amazing. I want to fly! From the ranch, we transferred to small fixed-wing planes, and I said goodbye to my family. They went back to Vegas, and I flew back to Cliff Dwellers, where my Prius (and a shower!) awaited.

Labels: fossils, geology, grand canyon, minerals, primary structures, rivers, sediment, travel, volcano

It started raining in DC on Sunday, and it basically hasn't quit since then. Rock Creek is running high and frothy, and the Potomac has about seven times as much water in it today as it did 36 hours ago. The USGS has only one gauging station on the Potomac in the Piedmont -- at Little Falls, approximately on the DC/Maryland border. Here's what that gage's data (available free online from the Survey) tells us (as of last evening) about the river's recent discharge trend:

Labels: dc, nova, piedmont, rivers, sediment, water resources

BLDGBLOG has put up a post the week before last about an idea to amputate the Mississippi River's outer "bird's-foot" delta and create a dumping of sediment along the periphery of the main Mississippi Delta. A quick review of the populated places in Google Maps suggests that not too many towns downstream would be cut off. The potential storm protection benefits for a wider wetlands storm buffer along the delta would outweigh the loss of even a medium-sized population center, it seems to me. I'm all for ditching New Orleans to the elements, but if we're going to hang on to it, then this would be an inexpensive way to protect that investment.

Labels: mississippi river, rivers, sediment