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09 Jul 22:26

A Memorable, Sometimes Terrifying, Always Exhilirating, and Frequently Funny Trip

by Dana Hunter
Lockwood DeWitt

Our recent geoblogger geotripping in the Central Oregon Cascades

I’m home, alive, which was in doubt a few times during this whirlwind overnight to Oregon. First off, Fourth of July holiday traffic. Meaning folks who would do things like look me in the eye, wait until I was a few yards away, and pull out in front of me. Or who would decide they wanted my lane and wanted it now, regardless of the fact I happened to be occupying the space they wanted. But I’m a watchful driver most of the time, and my brakes are excellent, and the car understands how to stop or swerve quickly, so those incidents merely served as spice.

So forget traffic. Let’s get down to bidness: geogallivanting with Anne, Chris, and Lockwood!

This exchange happened on Twitter because of it:

I swear I did feel the ground tremble a time or two...

I swear I did feel the ground tremble a time or two…

(Text for those whose devices won’t read pics: Chris tweeted, “Geobloggers in their natural habitat: @lockwooddewitt, @highlyanne, me & @Dhunterauthor, with 2 of the 3 Sisters. pic.twitter.com/7PRRk2v09s” and Jacquelyn Gill tweeted back, “That’s awesome! I’m surprised that didn’t trigger an earthquake or something.” Surprises me, too!)

This trip started with me driving down to Oregon at 4:30 in the ay-em, which wasn’t as brutal as it might sound. Few folk on the road, nicely overcast most of the way, cool and lovely. So I was still nice and fresh when I arrived, and discovered Chris and Anne’s rental car had decided to have bits fall off. My car rather comfortably seats four, though, so that was no problem at all. In we piled, and off to McKenzie Pass we went.

Firstly, we stopped at Clear Lake. Total madhouse. It seemed like everyone in Oregon had decided to visit the spot, and we only got a reasonable parking space by a minor miracle. But it was lovely. And people being there meant people doing interesting things, like swimming in water cold enough to cause most people to dip in a single toe and say, “Yeah, it’s not too JESUS FUCK THIS WATER IS FUCKING COLD!” and remove said digit with alacrity. Not this dude:

Kayaking person with dude swimming alongside in nothing but bathing trunks and cap. Definition of hardcore, people.

Kayaking person with dude swimming alongside in nothing but bathing trunks and cap. Definition of hardcore, people.

So that was entertaining. Then the scuba people swam by, and you get to see just how clear Clear Lake is.

Scuba divers in Clear Lake, which is clear enough for you to clearly see scuba divers in it.

Scuba divers in Clear Lake, which is clear enough for you to clearly see scuba divers in it.

The water was also clear enough for the near one to notice me photographing them. That was amusing.

I got a lovely shot of Anne and Chris there.

Anne Jefferson, Chris Rowan, and Clear Lake.

Anne Jefferson, Chris Rowan, and Clear Lake.

I could go on about them until the next century. Keep in mind that these are the two geobloggers who got me back into reading about geology in the first place, as I’d stumbled across them on ScienceBlogs back in the day. I admired them from afar and learned an amazing amount of geology from them. Then, when I became a geoblogger my own self, they became two of my most important mentors. Chris got me published in Open Lab, and Anne is the reason why I have a blog at SciAm. I owe them very nearly my entire professional writer trajectory. Lockwood makes the third most influential person, and here we were, all on the same trip, with Anne taking us through her area of study for her PhD, and I pretty much just shut my mouth, opened my ears, and gazed at them with big admiring puppy dog eyes.

They’re two of the sweetest people in the world, by the way. Just amazing on all fronts.

After Clear Lake, we visited one or two other places Lockwood and I have been before along the McKenzie River, but with Anne’s eyes, we saw it a whole different way. And there were places we went that are not only off the beaten path, but have no path beaten to them because they’re super-sekrit study areas, and I cannot divulge their location even under torture.

Anne reminding me that this location is verrboten.

Anne reminding me that this location is verrboten.

Okay, there was only one of those places, but it was memorable. Guarded by yellowjackets, in fact, and quite well. One of them took particular offense to me stopping near the nest, which the little buggers had camouflaged well, and let me know by stinging me in the butt. And as I was trying to figure out where this sudden pinpoint of burning pain was coming from, it decided my ankles were delectable, and went at both of them. You can imagine the howling and cursing that ensued. Luckily, I was the only person who got stung (five times!), and it left me alone once I went a few feet up the hill. We didn’t have to kill a poor bugger who was just guarding the old homestead. And yes, that was one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had, but it was localized, I’m not allergic, and I knew it would eventually go away. It’s just that I could no longer wear regular shoes. Argh.

I wish I could’ve ripped them off then and there, but we still had forest and ferns to navigate on the way back to the car. The ferns were bloody ginormous. Some of them were nearly over our heads.

Moi and Anne bushwhacking through enormous ferns. Image courtesy of Lockwood.

Moi and Anne bushwhacking through enormous ferns. Image courtesy of Lockwood.

Once I’d run a sanitizing wipe and poured some water over my wounds, then changed to flip-flops, I was ready to go. A few stupid stings weren’t going to stop me. And besides, everybody in the group who’d been tormented by an angry yellowjacket said the pain didn’t last long. Onward!

We drove up the cirque to McKenzie Pass. This is a hair-raising road, practically vertical in places, with plenty of blind switchbacks that suggest you take them at 15 mph. I’ve driven it enough times now that I was sort of ho-hum about it, whereas in the past, there’s been a constant litany of we’regonnadie, we’regonnadie running through my head. And I grew up with Oak Creek Canyon, mind, so I’m used to steep curvy things. We made it to the top without squishing a biker or falling down the cliff, which was very nice, and went to my favorite observatory ever.

Chris, Anne, and Lockwood at Dee Wright Observatory.

Chris, Anne, and Lockwood at Dee Wright Observatory.

I kind of lagged behind so I could take ambush shots. I mean, just too cool, having three of my heroes in one place. This is them gazing at Black Crater on the way up to the Observatory. At the top, a kind soul got all four of us, and that was a fantastic shot.

Four geobloggers at a geologically spectacular place.

Four geobloggers at a geologically spectacular place.

So that’s us atop Dee Wright Observatory with North and Middle Sisters as a backdrop. Outstanding.

Now, something I know for truth is that flip-flops and a’a lava don’t mix. I grew up around this stuff. It’s vicious and will cut you. One unguarded instant and bam! You’re bleeding. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take when I’m forced to do geology in flip-flops. I did fine until I stepped on to a boulder of it to get a shot of a particular feature, and slid ever-so-slightly stepping off. I grazed my big toe joint where it joins the foot, just a light brush, and the next thing I knew, it looked like a slaughterhouse. It didn’t hurt a single bit, the cut was ridiculously tiny, but it bled like a scalp wound. So there was moi, dripping blood, shuffling back to the first aid kit for another antiseptic wipe and a band-aid. Yes, I felt like a doofus. But I was back on the rocks in no time.

Moi posing with benchmark.

Moi posing with benchmark.

This photo amuses me, because you can see some examples of my war wounds.

Mah wounds.

Mah wounds.

Yes, I swell like a balloon any time something bites my legs. But the swelling was actually going down at that point. I’d baked myself in the sun, and the heat seemed to help a bit. So, onward!

Our next stop was Proxy Falls. This is a world-class beautiful waterfall, with a longish hike to get there. Anne decided we’d go to the top of the Collier lava flow, which is a tiny distance in, and then I could decide how much further we’d go, because flip-flops. But I figured I’d make it just fine. It’s a decently-maintained trail, and I could’ve grabbed a stick if I’d needed.

Ermahgerd! Ah shtick!

Ermahgerd! Ah shtick!

No, seriously, those are community sticks. Says so right on the stick.

Community schtick.

Community schtick.

Don’t ask me why that was so amusing. It just was.

So anyway, off to the top of the flow we went. Now, understand something: this flow is only 1,500 years old or so. It’s a baby. But it’s got ginormous old-growth trees hanging out all over it. There’s a reason for that involving outburst floods and other features, and I will someday tell you the story, but for now, just gaze in wonder as Anne and Chris show you how huge these trees are.

Bloody big tree.

Bloody big tree.

It’s bleedin’ enormous. I think that tree merits the designation maclargehuge.

Now, by this point, we were a considerable distance along the trail, and when your flip-flops have sneaker tread, a hiking trail is no tough challenge, so we went the distance. People. Proxy Falls is gorgeous. And hydrogeologically interesting. I’ll show you why someday: for now, enjoy Chris and Anne showing it off.

Anne, Chris, and Proxy Falls.

Anne, Chris, and Proxy Falls.

So that was utterly enchanting, and then we visited a lost spring, which Anne found, and my trusty flip-flops got me through another trek in the woods without undue incident. We ended our day at Takoda’s Restaurant. People. If you’re ever in the area of Takoda’s Restaurant, go to it forthwith. I wanted to ask them if they had a room upstairs where I could stay until I’d worked my way through their menu. Incredibly tasty.

And right next door is Harbick’s Country Store, where you could get nearly anything at a reasonable price. I zipped over before dinner and bought a selection of things with which to treat yellowjacket stings, in the spirit of scientific inquiry. I can report that Anbesol, despite being a topical anesthetic, is unable to cope. Hydrocortisone cream does nothing until the next day, when the pain is gone and the buggers are itching vigorously. Campho-Phenique, which I hadn’t encountered since childhood, doesn’t solve the pain, but seems to calm it a bit, and it’s antiseptic as well, which is a bonus. Very nice stuff. An extremely hot soak, a bit o’ Campho, plus two Benadryl, and I was basically unconscious and feeling great that night.

So, despite yellowjackets and rough lava, that was a fantastic day. We all had a blast, and it was an honor to ferry around a car full of amazing geobloggers. I’m so glad I got that opportunity!

Anne and Chris had to leave somewhat early the next day, so Lockwood and I were on our own. That’s never a problem for us. We headed out to investigate McDowell Creek County Park, which was rumored to have spectacular waterfalls. Oh, honey, does it ever! And it has a trail that’s very kind to flip-flopped feet. Bonus: the flip-flops allowed me to go wading for better shots, and there’s nothing like a good scramble through freezing cold water on a hot day. Glorious!

There’s also some extremely amusing misspelled graffiti:

Pro tip for graffiti artists: spell-check before scribbling.

Pro tip for graffiti artists: spell-check before scribbling.

(Says “You’ve gotta fall before you fly, so spread your wings and sore.”)

Props for using the correct form of your. Shame about the sore. Lockwood’s actually threatening to get “Spread Your Wings and Sore” tattooed on himself now. I think he should go for it. If any of you want to design some appropriate graphics, that would be awesome.

Now, I won’t leave you without a glimpse of a waterfall. This one’s a bit meta: Lockwood photographing me photographing Majestic Falls.

Moi at Majestic.

Moi at Majestic.

So that was a delightful, easy loop, and then we returned to Corvallis and went to our favorite Italian restaurant, Pastini. Reasonable prices, and zomg I’ve never had better Italian dressing on a salad. I wanted to take home a bucket of it. So good.

That ended our geoadventure. I zipped over to Suzanne’s on my way home. She’s one of my favorite people in the universe, and I’m glad I had time to spend a couple of hours with her and Token, who is one of the only lap dogs I find myself loving. We had good times, then it was home to my kitty, and to sleep excessively. Oy. Whatta trip!

Thank you Anne, Chris, Lockwood and Suzanne for making this trip one of the best ever. Love you all! And you, my darlings, I shall show my appreciation for you with many enchanting photos very soon. But right now, it’s time to pass out again. Hasta!

09 Jul 22:11

Smartphones used to predict earthquakes

by Rhiannon Williams
Lockwood DeWitt

Stupid. Not an earthquake predictor, but arrival warning.

Californian scientists have created an app that helps to predict earthquakes in the vulnerable region.
    


08 Jul 21:54

[via]

Lockwood DeWitt

Might want to let that cool a bit.



[via]

13 Jun 20:30

New northwest Oregon tsunami maps show less high ground for refuge than thought

by The Associated Press
Lockwood DeWitt

I've been more than a little suspicious about this. "Safe high ground" has frequently looked marginal, and a recipe for tragedy, IMO.

Oregon geology experts use laser-based remote sensing technology to compile new maps that show what areas would be safe during the most severe tsunamis. The new maps show fewer areas for refuge in the worst-case scenarios.

tsunami.JPGView full sizeTsunami warning signs are a common sight in communities along the Oregon coast.Benjamin Brink/The Oregonian
GEARHART, Ore. — New maps show there's less high ground than previously thought for refuge from the most serious earthquake and tsunami projected along Oregon's northwest coast, leaving city officials unsettled.

Oregon geology experts have compiled the maps using laser-based remote sensing technology and have been showing them to city officials at council meetings.

They are to be released publicly on Tuesday, the Daily Astorian reported. That's to be followed later this month by a series of community rallies to encourage preparedness.

In Gearhart, a city of about 1,500 south of Astoria, Mayor Dianne Widdop said she couldn't sleep after hearing what the maps showed: In the biggest of tsunamis, Gearhart residents wouldn't have anywhere they could be assured of safety.

"Gearhart doesn't really have any good options for high ground," said Rachel Lyles Smith of the state Department of Geology and Mineral Industries at a recent council meeting.

Questioned about one part of town, she used T-shirt sizes to describe the most serious tsunamis.

"I can't sugarcoat it," she said. "It's dire if (the tsunami) is an XXL. There will be a lot of fatalities in this area."

A key feature of tsunami planning along the coast has been identifying assembly areas on high ground and marking routes for residents to get there quickly, preferably afoot since traffic is expected to be disrupted.

In Warrenton, Commissioner Mark Baldwin reviewed the new maps and noted that while two refuge areas continued to be marked as above the highest expected water marks, another wasn't.

"The grade school's gone," he said.

In Astoria, Deputy Police Chief Brad Johnston said the new mapping "changes the paradigm for Astoria related to tsunamis. Astoria never had to worry about significant inundation zones, and now we've started that conversation in a way we never had to before."

When the Gearhart city administrator, police chief and fire chief got their first look at the new maps, they worried that residents wouldn't even try to reach high ground if the map didn't show something. So the state designated two "optional high ground assembly" areas, something that hadn't been done anywhere else.

One is a strip of ground by the local golf course that would be above water in an estimated 95 percent of tsunamis, and another is a narrow strip of ground that would be only a potential oasis amid the tsunami waters.

-- The Associated Press

11 Jun 20:14

611 - Our One-Continent World: Pangea (Political)

by Frank Jacobs
Lockwood DeWitt

Finally! Someone acknowledges the weaknesses of this illustration, and at the same time its awesomeness. "Awesome" does not mean "flawless."

There's much to criticise about this map of Pangea [1], but in spite of the geological anachronisms, it's hard to tear your eyes away from it.  The map shows a world in which the continents have broken loose from their moorings and crashed into each other in a planet-wide collision. These United ...

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10 Jun 22:11

Danube Crests Near Record Level in Budapest

by By MELISSA EDDY and PALKO KARASZ
A proposal to extend a state of emergency was submitted to Parliament on Monday as the Danube peaked at about 29 feet on Sunday night.
    


09 Jun 21:12

A Dam Big Shame, and Things Lost and Gamed...

by Garry Hayes
Lockwood DeWitt

Had heard GCD came close to disaster, had no idea how close! O_o


A different "Paradise Lost"...


It just doesn't get much better than this, to stand on the brink of a high cliff in the barren desert, and to see a stream of life-giving water in the depths below. Of course, if you are in trouble and dying of thirst, you are pretty well screwed, since the cliffs are pretty much unclimbable! There is a story behind the dramatic appearance of the river in the photo. It not a genuine river anymore, not exactly. It is a blunt instrument, wielded badly.

Glen Canyon Dam was built between 1957-1964 after a contentious environmental battle over whether national parks (Grand Canyon – Bridge Canyon dam) or National Monuments (Echo Park dam-Dinosaur National Monument) should have reservoirs extending into their boundaries. Glen Canyon was at the time protected by neither designation. The dam is 710 feet high (216 m) and 1,560 feet (475 m) wide, with a volume of 5,370,000 cubic yards (4,110,000 cubic meters) of concrete. It is anchored in Navajo Sandstone. When full the lake is 186 miles (299 km) long, with 1,960 miles (3,150 km) of shoreline, and a total capacity of 26.2 million acre feet (equivalent of two years of the average flow of the Colorado River). The lake is a popular national recreational site today, but Glen Canyon was once one of the most beautiful valleys along the Colorado River. Unfortunately, when the dam was completed, only a few hundred people had floated down the river to see the stunning canyon (and therefore explaining my title of things "lost and gamed"; the dam was built here by threatening to put dams elsewhere).

After construction was completed in 1964, the lake slowly filled (since water use downstream did not cease, only surplus water was used to fill the lake) and did not reach capacity until 1980. In 1983, the dam came perilously close to failing due to a major flood and design errors. Instead of using floodgates and spillways at the top of the dam for emergency drainage, designers utilized the diversion tunnels used to channel the Colorado River around the dam site during construction. They proved woefully inadequate to the task in 1983 as cavitation caused the walls of the diversion tunnels to rip out. In places the powerful flow of water cut 32 feet (10 meters) into the soft Navajo Sandstone and threatened the structural integrity of the dam itself. The diversion tunnels had to be shut down, and the lake threatened to flow over the crest of the dam in an uncontrolled fashion. This could have led to catastrophe, as such uncontrolled flow could have eroded and weakened the sandstone abutments of the dam. Failure of Glen Canyon dam would have led to the domino-like destruction of other large dams downstream, and the decimation of the water-supply infrastructure of some thirty million people. The disaster was averted by the construction of an 8 foot high dam of wood flashboards that held back the water long enough for the flood to subside. The structural integrity and survival of the dam came down to about one inch...the distance between the water level and the top of the flashboard dam in 1983.

Dam engineers are confident that modifications to the spillway tunnels will allow the dam to withstand future flooding events, but other concerns have become prominent. The southwest has been suffering an extended drought, and lake levels in recent years have become perilously low, threatening to turn Lake Powell into a “dead pool” incapable of producing electrical energy. In 2013 the lake was filled to less than 50% of capacity. Some water experts suggest that the lake may never be able to fill to capacity again, in part from drought, climate change, and upstream diversions of water.

Back to that photo at the top of the page...it isn't the whole story. The spot is called Horseshoe Bend, and it lies just a couple of miles downstream of Glen Canyon Dam. It is an entrenched meander, which developed when the land was uplifted, while the originally sluggish winding river started cutting downward instead of laterally. The rainbow-like pattern of red rock and green-blue water is an artifice of the reservoir. Unlike the olden days when copious amounts of silt caused the river to flow red, the water draining from the lake today is transparent and cold, in the 40-50 degree range. For a river in a hot desert, this is extraordinary. The ecosystem of the river evolved in different conditions than this, and species are sensitive to the new regime. Natural species of fish, amphibians and insects are in a difficult situation. For we humans it is ironic that river rafters have look out for hypothermia in their crews if people get dumped in the river on a day when the temperature is over 110 degrees.

So the view is just stupendous, but sobering at the same time. It can be reached by a short 3/4 mile long sandy trail from a parking lot on Highway 89 just 4-5 miles south of Page, Arizona. The highway is closed because of a serious landslide farther south but is open to the parking lot. It is well worth your time if you are ever in the region.
08 Jun 00:09

TRYING TO GET AHEAD ON SCHOOL WORK

Lockwood DeWitt

More of a test of the "Share" button than something that really needs sharing. Still, funny.

image

credit: epicshenanigansattheirfinest