Mid-Monthly Art: Aspen Leaf

Aspen Leaf

A yellow to golden brown and slightly reddish aspen leaf, inspired, no doubt, by leaves like these, which can be found every fall around the lake.

Copyright © 2012 Looking for Detachment.
Original work Copyright © 2003.
All Rights Reserved.

De Re Metallica

A—Twig. B—Trench.

Prospecting by twig and trench, as shown in one of my favorite books, De Re Metallica by Agricola. Source of image: Wikimedia.

Therefore a miner, since we think he ought to be a good and serious man, should not make use of an enchanted twig, because if he is prudent and skilled in the natural signs, he understands that a forked stick is of no use to him, for as I have said before, there are the natural indications of the veins which he can see for himself without the help of twigs. So if Nature or chance should indicate a locality suitable for mining, the miner should dig his trenches there; if no vein appears he must dig numerous trenches until he discovers an outcrop of a vein.

For a miner must have the greatest skill in his work, that he may know first of all what mountain or hill, what valley or plain, can be prospected most profitably, or what he should leave alone; moreover, he must understand the veins, stringers[1] and seams in the rocks[2]. Then he must be thoroughly familiar with the many and varied species of earths, juices, gems, stones, marbles, rocks, metals, and compounds. He must also have a complete knowledge of the method of making all underground works. Lastly, there are the various systems of assaying substances and of preparing them for smelting; and here again there are many altogether diverse methods.

[1] Fibrae—"fibres." See Note 6, p. 70.

[2] Commissurae saxorum—"rock joints," "seams," or "cracks." Agricola and all of the old authors laid a wholly unwarranted geologic value on these phenomena. See description and footnotes, Book III., pages 43 and 72.

Quotes are from De Re Metallica at Project Gutenburg,
Book II and Book I, respectively.

Read De Re Metallica at Project Gutenburg.
Read De Re Metallica at Internet Archive.

This post has been submitted to Accretionary Wedge #43 at In the Company of Plants and Rocks.

UPDATE: Geologic Illustrations Galore -- Accretionary Wedge #43 is now up!

Rocks and Stones

For a long time, when I was young, I really wanted to someday have a stone house to live in, and I think that thought started somewhere between our home in northern Virginia and the National Zoo in downtown D.C. I vaguely recall that we drove by a particular stone house while going to the zoo, or to other places downtown, and it became my favorite, something I aspired to live in someday "when I grew up." As for pictures, because I didn't spot anything while driving around here locally, perhaps my stone house or cottage would look something like Moore's Station, or maybe it would look something like this hobbit home.

My original stone cottage was made of large, gray, roundish stones of unknown rock type, and it had large stone steps leading up to it. I can't say for sure whether ivy grew on the walls, but tall, thick trees partly hid it from view, making it appear mysterious and even more enticing. It was in the middle of a city where I would no longer want to live, and probably wasn't as colorful as this painting.

After moving back to the west, I gradually learned to stop wanting to live in such a building because I consider Nevada to be earthquake country, with stone and brick houses just sitting there waiting to fall down in some next future earthquake similar to whatever one created the nice fault scarp on the eastern range front of the Carson Range near Genoa.


Old buildings like this one at Pritchard's Station, made of ash-flow tuff and sitting out in the middle of nowhere, are probably as close as I will come to having a stone cottage or cabin, though we would like to have slate or other stone siding on lower exterior walls when we build, maybe some slate walkways through garden areas, and it's always possible we'll have some slate as part of the floor near an entryway.

In the meantime, I realized this morning that I prefer to have most of my rocks outside, and that our building plans are pretty vague. Also, my few indoor rocks are messily and non-photogenically lying scattered through the house, and my yard rocks are out in the mud, currently getting re-covered by the latest snow shower (a relatively miniscule thing compared to the snow dump of April 7th and 8th).
I also realized that we have all the rocks we want on the hill above our house, along the roadside as we drive to work, and everywhere we go out in the field.

Written April 13th and submitted to the April 2011 Accretionary Wedge at Geological Musings in the Taconic Mountains.

Happy Halloween...

...from Jack-o-Breccia.

An Alaskan Lunch Overlooking the Glacier

After our long, seemingly endless drive up the Glenn Highway, we finally arrived the Long Rifle Lodge. We pulled in, parked right next to the entrance, and went inside - where we were welcomed by this testy character, who was thankfully behind a railing.
One great viewing spot for glacier watching is the windowed room beyond the shadowed bear. We were the only ones at the lodge when we arrived (besides our hosts), so we had our pick of tables. I was all for sitting at one of the far tables overlooking the snowed-out glacier, but others were chilly.
So we took a table right next to this fine wood stove.
I went outside. Down at the corner of this second-floor porch, you can see the glacier - on a clear day, not on this day.
Another porch corner has good viewing, and a telescope to boot. The Matanuska Glacier would be in plain view beyond the telescope and above the trees, were it not for all the snow and low clouds.
Back inside, we spent some time admiring this great ammonite fossil. This specimen could be from several local formations including the Cretaceous Matanuska Formation, which is known to contain ammonites and other marine fossils along with some plant fossils (Merritt, 1985, p. 45-46).
The inside of the lodge has its walls and empty floor spaces filled with Alaskan artwork, maps, historic paraphernalia, old rifles, and mounted animals.
We got ready for lunch: some of us started with hot chocolate, some with Alaskan ale of one flavor or another.
After lunch, on the way out, I looked into the bar area and spotted this bear having a bottled beer.
What kind of beer? A Big Sky Brewing Moose Drool (from Montana, not Alaska). Wonder if the bear drinks anything else - will try to remember to check that out next time!
And because today is St. Patrick's Day, I've added a photo of a Northwest Coast art piece with a little green in it. I'm sorry I didn't get the artist's name or location.

A Few (Mostly) Late January 2010 Geoblogic Links

Here, in non-chronological order, are a few of the geoblogospheric posts that have caught my eye recently.

A photo of megabreccia on Mars at Arizona Geology. (I love breccias!)

A great aerial view of Lassen Peak at Geotripper, part of his Other California series.

Coal and the fossil record of climate change in the Canadian High Arctic by Anne Jefferson of Highly Allochthonous.

The answer to something I've always wondered: Inkstain FAQ at jfleck at inkstain: What’s With the Easy-Do Parties Lady? at jfleck at inkstain.

A 1000^th geblogospheric post: 1K at NOVA Geoblog—and read the comments.

Sand posts at Ron Schott's Geology Home Companion: Salt and Pepper, White, Multicolored, Green, and Black—my favorites are the S&P, multicolored, and green (at least today).

And speaking of sand, more on the continuing and neverending story of Sand: The Neverending Story: A virtual book tour by Michael Welland, so far at Clastic Detritus and NOVA Geoblog, soon to be at Andrew Alden's About.com Geology and BLDGBLOG.

And, in case you haven't already seen this, the results of the recent geoblogosphere survey by Lutz Geissler, Robert Huber, and Callan Bentley at geoberg.de.

If you are going to the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show in February, contact Lee Allison of Arizona Geology about a Geoblogger get together.

And finally, I loved seeing this mix of art and geology: a review of the Geo Sapiens Geologic Art Exhibit at Clastic Detritus; the full exhibit is at the Two Wall Gallery.

More Muncho

I'm planning to clear out a few draft posts from last year, and also to hopefully finish up some mini-series. I'm starting by taking a leap back to the dark ages of 2009 - February, that is. I had nearly completed a series I started about the northern Canadian Rockies, centered around Folded Mountain and Muncho Lake. I'm going back there again, this time to a location on the Alcan Highway about 7 miles or 11 km south of the south end of Muncho Lake: the pullout at Mile 426/km 686, Alcan mileage (current mileage). I think this is the "Sawteeth" pullout, which has a sign that may or may not explain the geology of the Sentinel Mountains. I can't actually follow the explanation, so I won't show you the sign! (I mean, it doesn't make any sense to me.)

This oblique southeasterly view of the Sentinel Mountains from Google Earth shows the general area from a little higher than roadside level; that's the Alcan, AKA Highway 97. The topography of the same area, looking straight down and with the north arrow cocked to the right, can be seen here in The Atlas of Canada.
The picture I took looks like this; it corresponds with the two central peaks from the Google Earth image, with just a little of the pyramidal-shaped range-front hill on the far left.
Drawing on a composite set of photos, I came up with this pen-and-ink interpretation, which shows the general flat-lying nature of the sedimentary horizons away from the range front and to the east. The beds are then tilted into a dip slope right along the range front, forming a set of triangular-shaped facets, which I described more completely earlier. If you look carefully at the photo and the sketch, you'll see that they match up imperfectly - the sketch makes the farther hill appear a little larger than life. It is a cartoon.

The Folded Mountain and Muncho Lake Series:

• Where on (Google) Earth #158
• Folded Mountain, B. C.
• Folded Mountain, B. C. - A Reprise
• Muncho Lake, B. C.
• More Muncho (this post)

You'll find references, in-post links, more photos and images, and more about the Alcan and general geology in the previous posts.

Mid-Monthly Art: Northern Lights

Northern Lights is a watercolor painting I did a few years back, inspired by the atmospheric phenomenon of that name. The phenomenon is more properly called aurora, polar aurora, aurora borealis in the northern hemisphere (northern lights), and aurora australis in the southern hemisphere (southern lights). I've never seen any as colorful as the lights in my painting, and green without red is usually more common. I've seen the northern lights as far south Reno and Virginia City, Nevada, and have seen them in Alaska.

Aurora at Wikipedia - some colorful, presumably public domain photos.
Aurora FAQs at UAF's Geophysical Institute.
Aurora on Worldbook @ NASA
Aurora images at NASA
Aurora over Idaho: APOD 18Dec2006 - colorful red and green aurora, a copyrighted photo.

Copyright © 2010 Looking for Detachment.
Original watercolor Copyright © 2002.
All Rights Reserved.

Mid-Monthly Art: Mojave Hilton

This brightly painted version of The Mojave Hilton is based on an old, now faded photograph of the miner's shack or hunting cabin known as the Mojave Hilton, which is located in the Vontrigger Hills of California. I'm not going to give the precise location, because the shack has seen some ill use in the past few years or decades. The area is inside the East Mojave National Preserve (1994), formerly known as the East Mojave Scenic Area (1980).
This photo, now part of a cut-to-pieces collage, was taken in 1985 by the second geologist in the picture - that's right, the one that isn't me! I don't know how my 1981 field partner and I missed this cabin - we probably drove right by while focusing on volcanic rocks of the nearby Castle Mountains and the even closer Hackberry Mountain.

Back in '85, a sign over the door said "something Hilton," although all I can read now is the "Hilton" part, even on the original print.

The Mojave Hilton was used by hunters when we visited in 1985. The front steps were almost new. Although I never met anyone while stopping by, a sign-in book and wall sign-in lists made it clear that the place was used on a fairly regular basis.
This is the way the Mojave Hilton looked in early May, 2009: a little bit worse for wear, but still hanging in there.
These newer photos show that the sign over the door is gone.
Instead, the door has a hantavirus warning, which was plastered on by DOI.
"DO NOT SWEEP OR VACUUM." Thanks. I wasn't planning on it!
I did go in, though - it's an irresistable pastime of exploration geologists: examine every shack or cabin you find in the field, providing that the interior is sound. The note above was written in June, 1983. It names the cabin as "THE MOJAVE HILTON" and mentions the new front steps and other improvements.
Typical sign-ins on the wall. I don't remember for sure if there was a sign-in book or not. For sure there was one in either this cabin OR another semi-nearby, well-kept cabin, but I'm not sure which one had the book.
The stove that was new in 1983.
The kitchen area.
The bedroom area. Here's where you can see the disorder that the cabin has come to. To clean up, you'd need serious dust protection. The business cards overhead are another way of signing in. (I didn't leave one!)
The Mojave Hilton from the rear, showing the classic western way of holding the roof on by adding rocks - protection against windstorms.
The Mojave Hilton, as seen from the old mine shaft that the cabin was originally built to service, with the volcanic rocks of Hackberry Mountain in the background.
This is the main shaft (or decline) where someone went after whatever they thought was minable on this property. The mine dump shows signs of quartz and minor sulfides. The dump is small, though - either the mine didn't go deep, or some rock was hauled to an unknown mill.
A closer look, which I took by holding my camera at the proper angle and rotating the screen, not by actually getting closer. The timbers look a little rotten in places. The country rock, gneiss or granite, is shot with narrow stockworky veins of unknown type.
And looking farther down the decline - hey, I'm not going in there, you shouldn't either! Especially don't trust that rickety-looking ladder.
It would be a nice place to live, don't you think?

Copyright © 2009 Looking for Detachment.
Original watercolor Copyright © 2002.
All Rights Reserved.

Mid-Monthly Art: Golden Oak Leaf

Golden Oak Leaf is part of a leaf series that I did several years ago. Many leaves were inspired by fall and fall colors, like this one, but not all were. Most leaves are now hanging at our lake house.

It's barely fall at the lake. A Pacific-front storm passed through two days ago, bringing gloomy looking clouds, cooler weather, and a foggy morning or two. Leaves are barely turning: I've seen some red-orange to orange-yellow alder leaves and a few yellow aspen leaves. Summer flowers are, for the most part, finished blooming, though some poppies, purple cone flowers, and gaillardias are hanging on.

I've been away from the computer quite a bit these past few days, and will be away, at least off and on, into next week, taking care of family matters. Posting may be erratic, depending on time and access to the internet.

Copyright © 2009 Looking for Detachment.
Original work Copyright © 2004.
All Rights Reserved.

Mid-Monthly Art: A Summer on the River

A Summer on the River is another Alaska-inspired painting, one based on the view from my parents' cabin on the Kenai Penninsula. I'm actually not that great at coming up with titles for my paintings, and don't remember what the original title was right now. I probably have notecards of this painting with a different title. Maybe it was "Put Your Feet Up," or maybe that was a suggestion that I didn't use.

The contraption I have my feet on (yes, those are my toes), is a wood stove,

made of left over pieces of oil pipe used at the several fields on the Kenai Peninsula. The guy who made it, Cotton Moore, was a pipe welder who managed to save pieces of pipeline, mostly odds and ends.... He saw a market... and made outdoor stoves for many years after the main pipeline construction was finished. [Our stove] was made shortly before his stockpile ran out.

This description is from the source, the owner of said wood stove.

It was summertime, 1997, and I spent a good portion of that summer at the family cabin on the Kenai River. It was a particularly warm and unusually sunny summer. We took advantage of the weather, and did a little fishing, which we would have done even if the weather had been more typically cool and cloudy to rainy. In between times, we ate lunches and dinners out in the Alaskan-style covered picnic shelter, and we enjoyed evening fires in the custom-made wood stove.

Copyright © 2009 Looking for Detachment.
Original work Copyright © 2003.
All Rights Reserved.

Mid-Monthly Art: Bald Eagle

Bald Eagle

Another watercolor painting for mid-monthly art, this time of a Bald Eagle. I've seen lots of bald eagles in Alaska, a few in northrn California, and a couple - once or twice - in Nevada. On this Sibley page, you can find out more about them and listen to what they sound like.

Copyright © 2009 Looking for Detachment.
Original work Copyright © 2004.
All Rights Reserved.

Mid-Monthly Art: North Window

The North Window

This is a water-color painting of the North Window at Arches National Park, which I completed in 2002. The little shadowy people in the window are supposed to represent MOH and I; they are there to add an approximate scale.

Getting the color intensity and balance just right on digital photos of original artwork is somewhat imprecise. This rendition is as close as I could come. Original artwork on a one-quarter sheet of watercolor paper.

Copyright © 2009 Looking for Detachment.
Original work Copyright © 2002.
All Rights Reserved.

Muncho Lake, B. C.

Muncho Lake, a scanned postcard version.

Continue to the west and then north on the Alcan, beyond Folded Mountain. After stopping to view Stone Sheep (or Stone's sheep - Ovis dalli stonei) in the highway (a common site), you will come to Muncho Lake, about 36 km from the Folded Mountain turnout. Just so you remember where you started from and have some idea of where you're going, in this topo map, Folded Mountain is in the lower right, just to the left of the Nonda Creek label; Muncho Lake is prominent toward the upper left.

Muncho Lake is pictured above in a scanned version of a postcard I bought somewhere, somewhen on one of my Alaska Highway travels. Again, as in one image in my last post, the postcard seems to have been taken from a hovercraft or airplane; it looks northward.

The light-colored mountainous area, seen to the right (east) of Muncho Lake, is the Sentinel Range, part of the northern Canadian Rocky Mountains. The range continues a little to the north, just out of the postcard picture. I think it ends to the south at the Toad River and the Alaska Highway, although the geology and structure making up the Sentinel Range continues southward beyond the ToadRiver-road line of demarcation.

Above, I've more or less duplicated the postcard view of Muncho Lake with an image from Google Earth. We will be zooming in on a portion of the range front below, in a Google Earth view looking north from a height of about 472 ft (144 m) above ground level (I forgot to switch to meters in my new Google Earth version 5 right away!). The closeup focuses in on the third of several triangular-shaped mountain faces above, and it shows most of the second face in the foreground and part of the fourth face (and beyond) in the background.
These triangular-shaped range faces are dip slopes, with the carbonate beds dipping almost entirely parallel to the faces. These shapes could be called triangular facets, though they are not strictly fault-caused - nor are they the result of truncated spurs - and they are reminiscent of the flatirons along the Rocky Mountain range front in Boulder, CO, though bedding there dips eastward, and bedding above dips westward. Locally, these shapes in the Sentinel Range are called sawteeth. [If there is a better geomorphic or descriptive term for these triangular shapes than what I've used here, I wouldn't mind some input!]
This photo, taken in 1996 from the north end of Muncho Lake, duplicates the Google Earth image above (or the other way around), and shows the beds dipping parallel to the range front slope. The drawing below highlights the bedding.
So, from Folded Mountain, here, we've gone to this northern end of Muncho Lake, here, and are centered in on the triangular part of the range front at the very north end of the lake, here.

RoadTrip Update: Book Cliffs

Compared to the last time I drove by the Book Cliffs near Grand Junction, Colorado, a couple years ago (photo here), there was indeed a bit more snow when I drove by a couple days ago, although the snow was not deep.
The Book Cliffs are formed from a resistant sandstone in the Cretaceous Mesaverde Group - the two buff-colored cliffs at the top of the slopes above - which cap badlands formed on the Cretaceous Mancos Shale - the brownish to gray slope-forming unit below the capping cliffs. The Mancos Shale is fairly easy to recognize as you drive over it on I-70 in eastern Utah, because it is made of coaly beds and swelling clays, the latter of which cause the roadbed to become quite bumpy in places.
Above, a bit of detail in the Mancos Shale. Driving through the area from the San Rafael Swell into eastern Colorado always reminds me of the paintings of the artist Georgia O'Keeffe, who painted desert scenes and badlands, especially in New Mexico.