GSW spring field trip

A few photos from last May’s spring field trip with the Geological Society of Washington… Here’s the group at Chain Bridge Flats (far westernmost-Washington, D.C.), looked at the metamorphic rocks there — a metagraywacke melange  known as the Sykesville Formation.

Another group shot, with field trip leaders Tony (khaki shirt) and Gary (red jacket) Fleming in the foreground:
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Euhedral metamorphic pyrite crystals (porphyroblasts):
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An elusive bedding plane in the Sykesville Formation (a rare thing to see, as the rock has been pervasively metamorphosed and deformed):gsw_sp_FT_09_05

Annotated version of the same, highlighting the grain size change that defines the bedding plane:gsw_sp_FT_09_05_anno

Boulder of Cambrian-aged Antietam Formation quartzite, washed ~25 miles downstream by the Potomac River, bearing characteristic Skolithos trace fossils.

gsw_sp_FT_09_06

A close-up of the side of this boulder, showing another trace fossil, Diplocraterion, as well as one of the Skolithos tubes.

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Annotated version of the same photograph:diplo_1_anno

Finally, another piece of the Antietam Formation, this one only cobble-sized, showing another example of Diplocraterion:diplo_2

GSW field trips are free and open to the general public. If you’re in the D.C. area, watch the D.C. Geology Events website for opportunities like this, and then come on along and join the fun!

Visitation

Guess which day I launched the blog?

graph

Thanks to everyone who has stopped by so far.

I’ve gotten the same question several times from several readers, so let me address it here for everyone’s edification: Yes, NOVA Geoblog will be left “as is,” where it is. You can link to it, or bookmark it, or rely on its presence as you see fit. It’s “fossilized!” The comments are now closed, so what you see now is what it will remain into the future.

Fossil crinoid stem

Today, you get a photo of a fossilized crinoid stem, from the Mississippian-aged Lodgepole Limestone of the Bridger Range, north of Bozeman, Montana. A pencil is provided for scale:

crinoid_stem

Zoomed-in a bit, and cropped. The segments (“columnals”) show up nicely:

crinoid_stem_2

Crinoids are echinoderms, the invertebrate phylum which includes sea urchins and sea stars. However, at first glance you might think they were plants, as they are sessile (mainly sessile, anyhow) and have an overall form much like a kindergartner’s sketch of a flower. This morphology is where their common name, sea lilies, comes from.

U.K. sediment survey

A friend forwarded this via e-mail to me today… U.K. readers may be interested in participating.

Millstone Grit? Kimmeridge Clay? Old Red Sandstone? Durness Limestone?
Yorkshire Lias? ………. What are YOUR top three British sediments?

BSRG (British Sedimentological Research Group) are conducting a small survey to find out what formations geologists consider the “best” sedimentary deposits across the United Kingdom.

This sounds like a loony piece of work (and it is) but the results
have been quite surprising so far (millstone grit? the best? really?!).

BSRG are trying to get more people involved in this survey (approx 150
so far). To join in, email your top three favourite formations, in
order (+ your name and your profession) to:  top3formations@hotmail.com

“Prehistoric”: D.C.

Mark your calendars! Prehistoric: D.C. will profile (part of) the ancient past of Washington, D.C., in an episode to air February 28, 9pm, on the Discovery Channel.

Salamander shear

Whilst discussing how to quantify strain with my GMU structural geology students recently, I hit upon a cool analogy. In order for you to understand the analogy (assuming you’re not a structural geologist), I’ll have to review some background information first. Stick with it, and I promise you a salamander at the end.

Structural geologists are interested in how rocks deform. If we have some idea of the original shape of a rock element (say, an oncolite, or a cooling column, or a fossil, or more prosaically, a sedimentary layer), and we find a deformed version of it, then we can use that object as a strain marker. By measuring its features, we can determine how parts of the strain marker have elongated, shortened, or rotated.

Elongation is pretty easy to calculate. You compare the final dimensions to the original dimensions via the equation e = (lf-lo)/lo where “lo” is the original length and “lf” is the final length.

If the strain marker has been elongated, then the value of e will be positive. If it has been shortened, then the value of e will be negative. Another value, S (for ‘stretch’) is also a useful parameter to calculate. S = lf/lo, which is the same as saying: S = e + 1

As a quick example, a line which has been deformed from an original length of 20 cm to a final length of 30 cm has an elongation of 0.5. It has a stretch of 1.5. Put another way, the line has been increased in length by 50% (of its original length), and it is now 150% as long as it originally was.

Here’s a little diagram to summarize:

Okay — so far, so good. We can now calculate length changes. But many of the structural elements in a strain marker not only change their length, but also their orientation. That is to say, they rotate. In order to quantify that, we need to thinking about shear strain. Shear strain (γ), is calculated from angular shear (ψ), a quantity that is measurable in a rock element (again, provided you have a clear idea of what it looked like before deformation).

For any given line in a strain marker, angular shear is defined as the deviation (in degrees) from perpendicular for a line which was originally perpendicular to the line we care about. That is a ridiculous definition at first glance, and it seems to many students quite non-intuitive why one would bother looking for a line originally perpendicular to the line on which we are actually trying to measure the angular shear! I mean, is that abstractified or what?

Before I reveal my stunning new analogy for angular shear, let me diagram the definition for you, and relate it to shear strain.

The line we care about (blue) looks quite the same after deformation as it looked before deformation. So we can’t actually measure anything about it directly that has changed. But when we look at a line which we know was originally perpendicular to it (gray/red), we can measure how it has changed.

The angle between the old perpendicular-line and the new ‘perpendicular’- line is ψ, the angular shear. By convention, clockwise rotations of the perpendicular-line are given positive values, while counter-clockwise rotations are assigned negative values. In the above example, the rotation is clockwise by 35°, so we note it as “ψ = +35°”.

Another way to think about this situation is to consider any point on our perpendicular-line. Here, let’s consider point A:

A was originally at the end of the old perpendicular-line (gray), in position Ao. After deformation, it is now at the end of the new ‘perpendicular-line’ (red), in position Af. You can see that this outlines a right triangle (yellow):

Right triangles are lots of fun, because they allow us to practice trigonometry. You may remember the mnemonic phrase “SOHCAHTOA” from your high-school trigonometry class. Basically, this relates the angle ψ to the lengths of the sides of the right triangle, where S refers to sin(ψ), C refers to cos(ψ), and T refers to tan(ψ). (That’s sine, cosine, and tangent, respectively.) “O” is the length of the side opposite the corner of the triangle with the ψ angle. “A” is the length of the non-hypotenuse side adjacent to the ψ-angled corner. “H” is the length of the hypotenuse itself. So the change in the position of point A, which could be expressed as Δ(A), is equal to the length of the ‘opposite’ side relative to the length of the ‘adjacent’ side of the triangle. The length of the adjacent side isn’t changing through this deformation, but the length of the opposite side is changing. With a little deformation, it changes a little. With a lot of deformation, the length of that O side increases dramatically.

The formula for calculating shear strain from angular shear is: γ = tan(ψ)

So, with a large value of ψ, you get a large value for tan(ψ). The shear strain (γ) increases along the line we care about (blue) with increasing rotation of the ‘perpendicular’-line (red). The maximum value of ψ would be approaching 90°, which means that your γ would be close to infinity. The minimum angular shear, 0°, would yield a shear strain of 0. Here’s a table of other possible values.

Okay, got it? …(Whew!)

Now for the salamander!

In order to express to my structure students why we bother to pay attention to that ‘perpendicular’-line, I wanted to get them into the perspective of the line we care about: I wanted to get them into its mindset. But of course, lines are geometric entities, and don’t have minds. They are hard to identify with. So I opted for a salamander, because they are cute. Furthermore, salamanders are roughly linear organisms, and have legs poking out of them at roughly right-angles to their spinal column. Here’s my blackboard sketch:

So if you think about what the salamander experiences as it gets sheared (right-lateral), you can imagine what shear strain feels like. The legs go from an original orientation (purple chalk) to a deformed orientation (blue chalk), rotating by about 45°. Along the length of the salamander’s body (orange chalk), the angular shear is 45°, and the tangent of 45° is 1. So the shear strain along the length of this poor salamander is 1. What this means is that the tips of the salamander’s toes (the equivalent of point A in the earlier diagrams) have moved one whole leg-length to the right of their original positions. You can put some numbers to this if you want: Say the leg length is 1.5 cm, and the toes are displaced 1.5 cm. Remember SOHCAHTOA… γ = tan(ψ) = opp/adj = 1.5/1.5 = 1.

There’s something else on the diagram, too: a yellow line. This makes the point that if the leg-line of the salamander is the “line you care about,” and not the spine-line, then the spine-line can be “the line originally perpendicular to the line you care about.” If you’re measuring the angular shear along the leg lines, you would want to measure how the spine-line has rotated relative to its original position. As a result of the shearing deformation in this example, the spine-line has rotated by 45° counter-clockwise. So we’d say: “ψ = -45°”. The tangent of -45° is -1. The shear strain on the leg-line is therefore exactly the opposite of the shear strain on the spine-line.

But the key point of this analogy is to put your mind in the salamander’s perspective, and “feel” the shear strain along the length of your body as deformation proceeds. I hope that intuiting shear strain from that perspective will be useful to structure students learning these concepts.

Focused photo of turbidite

Since yesterday’s live-blogging the rock sample prep routine turned out blurry, I figured I owed it to this sample, and to you, to give everyone a better look. So I scanned it this morning. Penny for scale.

Assuming that your computer screen is vertical, this is in the same orientation as when it was deposited: coarse at the bottom, fine at the top.

Dalmatian pluton

Continuing with some photos from eastern California…

After checking out the faulted moraine, but before heading up the hill to check out the indurated shear zone (which you can just see in the background of this photo), we stopped to check out this visually-striking outcrop:

eastern_sierra_10

Look at the glee on the faces of Kurt (green shirt) and Marcos (running; he’s so excited!). We were all pretty jazzed by this polka-dotted outcrop. But in spite of being titillated, we weren’t quite able to figure this thing out.

Here’s Jeff expressing his understanding of just what we’re looking at:

eastern_sierra_06

Wes Hildreth, our Bishop Tuff man from the USGS, takes a closer look:

eastern_sierra_08

So here’s an even closer look, with my pen for scale:

eastern_sierra_09

We’re looking at two main rock types: a dark colored one which is present in grapefruit- to basketball-sized chunks, most with high sphericity and round cross-sections, and a light-colored granite which was present between the dark orbs. There were some more angular dark chunks, too.

eastern_sierra_07

Our best bet was that these were xenoliths, stoped off the edges of the granitic magma chamber as it intruded, then piled up on the floor of the magma chamber. If you went “in” to this rock face by a few feet, the ‘xenoliths’ disappeared and you would be swimming in pure granite. The problem with the chamber-floor-debris-layer interpretation is that this “layer” of putative xenoliths was oriented subvertically. So if it represents the floor of an ancient magma chamber, then the whole pluton would have to be rotated by ~90° in order to produce this particular outcrop.

An alternative explanation is that the subvertical orientation of this layer of dark blobs was the wall of a magma chamber, and we’re looking at an outcrop face that was ~parallel to that wall. Probing fingers of granitic magma were working their way into the surrounding rock, perhaps thermally eroding it as they went, producing rounded shapes. Later, once everything had solidified, a fault developed through the transitional zone which divided pure pluton from pure wall rock, and gave us this dual-composition outcrop.

I think I prefer the xenolith interpretation, but to be honest, none of us were really sure what was going on here. We were all struck by the beautiful polka-dot pattern, but among this crew of 30 professional geologists, not one could say for sure just what the hell was going on with this outcrop.

…And I think that’s pretty cool.

Graded bed sample

Today during Physical Geology lab, I used our grinding wheel to plane down a turbidite sample than I collected this past December down in Chilean Patagonia. Thanks to the technological miracle of blogging via iPhone, I can send it to you in a mere 45 seconds. Enjoy the graded bed: let it transport you back to the Cretaceous, in a deep marine basin with periodic influxes of mud and sand. Ahhh, turbidite; take me away!

Mini debris flow

minidebrisflow

Small-scale debris flows as a muddy slurry flowed over weathered-out chunks of the Bishop Tuff. Probably about two days old. Southern edge of the Volcanic Tableland, last September.

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