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Friday, July 31, 2020

Another Try


A mistake is in my last post which I wish to correct in this post.  Some of you noticed that the first few pictures have a greenish ting which looks unnatural. (an example to the right)  Indeed it is unnatural.  I considered mentioning the problem, blaming the mosquitoes.  But to mention it would detract from the rapture I felt and wanted to convey on my first hike in the Wind River Mountains,  I want every post and every poem to rest in the intensity that I feel at the place of its origin, rich with pictures, and asking something of the reader.  So I posted anyway.


   Those “winged needles,” as Mary Oliver calls them, swarmed around me like a veil every time I stopped for a picture.  Within fifteen seconds, the little pests had found me.  I hurried to get the camera from its case, make a setting or two, shoot and move on.  I didn’t take time to review the shot.  Somehoe, the "white balance" setting got changed and stayed changed.  I didn't realize it until I got back to the motel. There I tried to correct the faulty color balance without much success.  It's always best to have the settings right on the camera rather than to post-correct.  I almost envy you who shoot with cell phones and usually produce good pictures. 


Wind River Canyon


Today, I give you another try, not by going back to Whiskey Mountain, but by showing part of the Wind River Mountains that isn’t mountains anymore.  Geology may not be your interest, but being mine, I wish to share rocks in a way that you might find interesting.  I hope to get some reaction to what I write, and that depends on my making it worth your trouble.   I may not change your comprehension of the world, but maybe you will be inspired by how some of it got here.   




The place I am staying on the east side of the Wind River Mountains is drained by the north-flowing Wind River.  Originally, it flowed across flat terrain, beneath which lay the buried Owl Creek Mountains.  They were raised about 60 million years ago by the Laramide Orogeny, along with the Wind River Mountains, which I spoke of in the first blog post at  https://sharon-wind-river.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-wind-river-mountains.html    



on the left looking upstream,
same formation
on the right looking upstream,
same formation
About 4 million years ago another uplift caused the Wind River to incise the buried mountains at what is now Wind River Canyon which cuts the old mountains, revealing sediments.  The rocks that the river cuts through were in part deposited from the first version of the Wind River Mountains.  We see sediments from that old Range that was eroded away and buried in its own debris.  Sorry folks, I’m not climbing back up Whiskey Mountain to correct my mistake, but I can show you something similar in the way that sedimentary rocks tell a story.  





right side of canyon going upstream,
same formation
left side of canyon going upstream,
same formation
Notice how the layers tilt more steeply than the road tilts as we drive upstream to the south.  The formation in the distance on the right side is the same formation as the one close-up on the left, but it is high above the road.  The tilt of these layers creates an illusion of driving on a flat road that is actually going uphill.  I used zoom here as on the Whiskey Mountain hike to show the same formation on both sides of the river.  But this time the “white balance” is correct.







left side looking upstream,
same formation
right side looking upstream,
same formation


The tilt or of the layers also means that as we drive up the canyon the age of the layers increases.  Driving uphill is like driving deeper into the layers and farther back in time.










Also on this drive, and of interest geologically, are the hot springs at Thermopolis, a town along Wind River, north of the Canyon.  The Wind River Basin left by the uplift of about sixty million years ago has filled with sediments which have hardened into rock, and the rock has bent deep in the crust and cracked.  It is thought, but not proved, that magma has entered some of the cracks and is heating ground water, causing it to rise and producing hot springs at the surface.  







Terraces have precipitated from minerals in the hot water, and microbes have colored the rocks, similar to hot pools at Yellowstone.  Some scientists think life may have started in pools such as these.  










Sea gulls live by these hot pools?  Really?  








Michael Angerman is making a map of nightly locations, as he has done for many of my trips.  Please see    Michael's Map




Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Whiskey Mountain





Left Side
Right Side
Today I met the Wind River Mountains in person.  No rabbit hole now, but real in person conversation with this mountain range that has filled my thoughts in these pandemic months.  Until a month ago, Wyoming would not let a Californian enter its territory unless they quarantine for two weeks in a kind of in state prison.  But now that our caseload has spiked, they let us cross the border and play like locals.  I have been in Wyoming for three days, and today was my first hike in this long-awaited wilderness escape. 





From just south of Dubois, a gravel road ends at a parking lot, and from there I started up a wide canyon along its right side.  While most of this mountain range is composed of igneous rock of extreme age, this northern end is sedimentary layers of limestone, sandstone, and dolomite.  I like to understand such origins if possible because it makes the trek more interesting.  The layers on both sides of this canyon are tilted in about the same direction and of similar colors and shapes.  Surely, it was Torrey Creek, along whose right bank I was trudging, that began cut through these sedimentary layers a long time ago.  


I had a close view of the right wall, but the left wall was about a mile away.  Using zoom, I try to compare the tow walls, which appear to be of the same origin.








After climbing for two hours, I entered a forest that hid the geology. Several small meadows, green and lush with wildflowers, appeared as if it were springtime among the trees.  









At 9,000’ elevation, a full contingent of foraging bees and wasps, and those top predators, mosquitoes search for lunch among the flowers.    










At 10,200’ I came to a ridge and looked across a broad valley at jagged peaks with snowfields below them.  Glaciers had filled this valley 20,000 years ago and carved it deeper and wider than is was.  But when they melted, all the rocks they were carrying down to some lowland were plopped in piles as if giant gofers once lived here.  










The hike started at 7,000' and topped out at 10,000, in just 3 miles—a steep trudge that went from sagebrush almost to timberline.  I could see the snow fields and the jagged peaks and felt privileged to for this good introduction.  Springtime was in the meadows—it comes late at high elevation, with fields of wildflowers.   






It was great to get into the wilderness again and even to realize that I am soar and out of shape.  I will have to ease into the longer hikes, the more spectacular destinations to come later in the adventure.  










Michael Angerman is making a map of nightly locations, as he has done for many of my trips.  Please see    Michael's Map     


Saturday, July 25, 2020

Wheeler Peak


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On the eastern edge of Nevada about halfway upstate, stands one of the many mountains we collectively call the Basin Range.  The Snake Range contains one of the highest peaks in the Basin Range—Wheeler Peak at 13,063 feet.  You see it here from a basin to its west.  Notice what looks like forest extending part way up, and above, the mountain looks bare or maybe covered with grass. 






I set out early this morning from the east side of the Snake Range, driving to a trailhead. Morning is the best time to take mountain pictures and these, taken from the jeep, show it in full morning glory.  The day would be satisfying just seeing this, but much more was in store.  








From the trailhead I would ascend the ridge you see to the right of Wheeler Peak, then follow the ridge to the summit.  I could not imagine a more perfect day to be doing this, or anything I would rather be doing.  













Up through the forest to the ridge, and shortly after starting up the ridge, the trees suddenly vanished.  I have never seen a timber line more abrupt.  Trees cease at 10,700 feet, because they can’t survive the winters any higher. 





From here on the only vegetation is colonies of matted green and thorny little plants.  They grow flowers so tiny that I couldn’t get a good picture, and they grow where everything around them is rock.  I found no soil and wonder how they do it. 







These rocks are broken with sharp edges, and they roll about underfoot.  It has to be a careful spirit that takes a person here, attention to every step. 







Final approach to the summit
I can’t call it beautiful up here on a pile of rocks.  This peak was beautiful seen from below, but reaching its summit is strenuous and without enticing scenery.  Still, it is wilderness and wild and free from the civilized world.







Looking down form the top to the place where I took the picture from the basin seven thousand feet below.  And looking farther through the haze, I see several of the lower ranges in the Basin Range  






Michael Angerman is making a map of nightly locations, as he has done for many of my trips.  Please see    Michael's Map    





Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Return to the Rabbit Hole

Google Earth view of Wheeler Peak in the Snake Range of
the Basin and Range Physiographic Provence


“Few places in this world are more dangerous than home.  
Fear not, therefore, to try the mountain passes.” – John Muir




From high above the western United States, one of the most striking landforms seen anywhere in the world lies in a broad desert.  Composed of alternating mountain ranges and valleys, all running generally north-south, the view from an airplane looks like an army of caterpillars marching toward Mexico.  From the eastern escarpment of the Sierra Nevada Mountains on the west to the Rocky Mountains on the east, and from southern Oregon on the north  to Mexico on the south, this pattern of basins and ranges dominates the landscape. 












In a college geology class, I was told that the land had stretched.  Common wisdom among experts at the time deemed stretching as the reason for raised mountains and sunken valleys.  Here on a field trip, a professor brought a wooden device he had made to show what stretching looks like.  As he pulled and “stretched” the device, blocks of “land” rose while others fell,  “Land area always increases with normal faulting,” he said.   











No other place in the world is like it.  Basins and ranges, like waves and troughs on a wind blown sea of time, 150 separate mountain ranges with high peaks and low basins, one of them below sea level in Death Valley, span the region.  It has been called the Basin and Range Physiologic Provence for a hundred years; and stretching has been held as its cause for nearly as long.  But exactly how this strange landform got this way is still in debate.  







Since the Basin Range is on my way to the Wind River Mountains, I plan to spend a few days there.  I want to climb one of the mountains, Wheeler Peak at 13,063 feet in the Snake Range of eastern Nevada, near the Utah line.  If you have followed my many treks over the years, I think you get the picture.   

If you read my last blog post and followed me down a rabbit hole leading to the source of the Wind River Mountains, you can predict that this venture down another rabbit hole seeks the source of the Basin and Range Physiologic Provence.  Please hold on, we’re going down under again.









In his unkempt office, deep in underground thought, a man in knobby boots spoke with academic dignity.  “The geologic history of the Basin Range Province includes an event unique in all the world, one that tore the country apart,” The old geologist spoke as a convert to the “new geology” where everything needs explanation in terms of tectonic plates.  “We know that Nevada stretched in the east-west direction and that 'normal' faults are a result of stretching."  

He pointed to a schematic cross-section on the wall showing how stretching causes cracks which release great blocks of earth’s crust allowing them to sink by gravity.  “We call the faults that allow this to happen, ‘normal faults’ because they allow blocks to move by gravity, not by tectonic pressure."



I had to ask the obvious question, “What caused the crust to stretch?” I have since come to wish I hadn’t asked, because what followed has come to seem more wondrous than anything Alice saw in her rabbit hole, and just as impossible.  But remembering that Alice saw several impossible things before breakfast, I asked the geologist to continue.  He certainly had some clout, being consultant for Great Basin National Park.


“Magma, the consistency of tree pitch or resin," he said, "rose from deep within the earth softening the North American Crystalline Shield and pressing upward on it, upwelled like a blister beneath the overlying crust,”  He made a gesture of a great blister rising upward. 





He showed diagrams of magma coming up through cracks in the North American Crystalline Shield and oozing outward under sedimentary rock.  (You remember the great Shield from my first blog post, how it rose a few billion years ago under everything that is now American; and then it hardened into granite.)




But unlike the mountain building event of my last blog post, where 75-55 million years ago the Wind River Mountains were pushed up, the crust in the Basin Range was not eroded very much in the uplift.  Rather it was forced outward, stretched and made thinner, a kind of taffy pulling, he said.  The land stretched to twice its width and became half as thick, widening Nevada by 155 miles, he said.  And I think he understood my bewilderment.
    




I had to wonder: was the top of the Shield so slippery that material above simply slid down a gentle grade?  “Perhaps it was the Shield that stretched,” I ventured, “and it carried the overlying rock with it.”  But he quoted a line from the noted DiPetro book that supports his theory.

“Alice thought the whole thing absurd, but they all looked so grave, she did not dare to laugh.” ~Lewis Carroll

I thought the whole thing absurd, but he looked so grave, I did not dare to laugh.    Stories told as truth, as his was, and that seem impossible, are surely more intriguing than fiction.  It was such an incredible idea to me that I was silent for a minute or two.  I fully expected to crawl deeper into the rabbit hole after this encounter.




Recall that at the Laramide Orogeny (the mountain building event that raised the Wind River Mountains along with most of the Rocky Mountains) ended about 55 million years ago.  Stresses relaxed after that, and the mountains eroded to a nearly flat plain.  Then beginning about 30 million years ago another orogeny raised the Wind River Mountains again, exhuming them from their own erosional debris.  This was about the time that radiometric dating shows the beginning of "stretching" of the plain that would become the Basin Range.    



I would not be down underground if it were not for an interest in unknowable things.  If geology appeared a closed and known field of study, I would not pursue it because I would not feel needed.  And to feel needed, if only to pass out napkins at a poetry workshop, is necessary for wellbeing.  

“I am degenerating into a machine for making plans.  I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men.  I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news.” – John Muir



I once thought trigonometry a subject I could search for years, even invent some new aspect of it, or at least explain something better than others had.  Then I reached what a teacher told me was the end of trigonometry.  With sadness in having nothing more to learn, I have searched ever since in places where the end of discovery cannot be found, or at least where it seems unattainable.  Geology is such a field, and one that I have subjected you to over the years, if you followed my many trips and blogs.  Now I realize that the angles and distances of trigonometry depend not only on principles I learned, but upon how fast I am traveling and on how far away those angles and distances are.  I could have stuck with it.





Notice how the normal faults curve toward the horizontal as they descend in the diagram he showed me.  Bending allows material to slide on top of the Shield, according to much accepted text, the very thing I couldn’t swallow.  The Shield and the sedimentary material above are both parts of the North American Plate, and plates are supposed to move as units, not slip horizontally within themselves.  So I asked the question. and here’s what I learned:  

The old geologist waited a while after my question, then, with staid dignity, looking rather pleased with himself, said “The tectonic mechanisms responsible for lithospheric extension in the Basin Range are controversial, and several competing hypotheses attempt to explain it.”  He went on to explain in terms that I perhaps sensationalize in the following summary:

Magma, the consistency of pitch or resin, intrudes between nearly horizontal layers of existing rock.  It lubricates like grease.  Even so, layers will not slide without force to move them.  When the Shield rose like a huge blister, pressurized magma intruded between the shield and the upper crust, and flowed down around the blister, providing gravitational force by which the upper crust slid on the grease.  And that’s what caused the upper crust to stretch. It became thin as it stretched.  

“Alice had begun to think that very few things are really impossible.”  

Perhaps some things she had learned in geology brought her to this.  So many unimaginable events have change my mind about logic and its limits that even this fantastical explanation seemed worthy of study.



Recall that a long period of compression of the North American Plate was due to subduction of the Farallon Plate, causing the first rise of the Wind River Range.  Great pressure may have caused shrinking and thickening of the crust.  At about the time this stress ended, stretching of the Basin Range began.  If the plate became twice as thick during compression, then it might have returned to its present thickness by relaxing of pressure.  Under this scenario, it was not stretching, but release of pressure that gave us today’s topography.   



I could tell at least three more stories from the rabbit hole, all addressing  how the Basin Range stretched.  But I have told enough conflicting stories that are unbelievable.  All of them are based on evidence and all are plausible.  They are not unlike poetry.

Soon, I hope to be on the summit of Wheeler Peak, looking across several of the basins and ranges.  Even there, I do not expect to learn how this strange landform came to us, but I will see it in person, and wonder.

Alice thought, “Shall I ever get any older than I am now?  That’ll be a comfort, never to be an old woman, always to have lessons to learn.”