Time and Space...

MONTANA'S MISSION MOUNTAINS, NORTH OF MISSOULA

Well, it's been far too long. And I'm far from Montana: this holiday season finds me thankfully resting at home with family, and able to spend time with old friends, getting ready for Texas and trying to get rid of some of the stuff that always seems to be in my car with me when I move but I don't know where it came from and never use it. Too much has happened since I last posted for me to hope to do everything justice here so there will be a short version and a long version.

Short Version:

My adventures seem to have me rolling around the lower 48 -- after leaving my job with the engineering firm last spring I flew to Montana and spent five weeks chasing rocks around the desert at field camp, flew back east and walked from one end of Vermont to the other which took a month and was the best thing I ever did, drove my butt back to Montana, saw Glacier National Park, moved into an apartment, caught a frickin' huge brown trout, made a batch of beer, got super busy with school, made new friends, got addicted to coffee, drank too much wine with my new friends, inherited a piranha, made a new batch of beer, took an job in Texas for the spring, drank all the first beer, stopped drinking coffee, ate apple cider donuts in a van in a desert in Idaho, spent a week drinking beer with friends and geologizing at the GSA conference in Denver, discovered I lost 25 pounds, applied for a bunch of grants, taught two sections of geo 101, got addicted to coffee again, took my finals, stopped drinking coffee again, drank all the new beer, gave the damn piranha away, moved out of that stupid apartment, drove my tired ass back to New York, saw family and old friends, got fat on holiday food, and had coffee this morning but just because I like it, not because I needed it to wake up (honest). I spent too much time thinking and not enough time doing of late. But that will change soon.

Long version, with all the reflection and thought and stuff:

There was a great field trip north through the Mission Valley and up to Flathead lake. There were teachers from all over the state with us, and it was great to be able to learn about teaching from them while they learned about geology from us. We were able to see some of the flathead river and sniff around some coarse-grained imbricated deposits. Mmmm, sediment (burp!) -- add the spot and the observation to the list in my brain. We were also able to see some gorgeous country on a perfect day.

Field trips are like a a breath of fresh air: I went to Montana because I wanted to see it, and have succeeded... in seeing the inside of the geology building in Montana. It's difficult to tear myself away from classes and work, but field trips are an exception. For a geologist there's nothing more important than going out and seeing things. This is the food for our souls and the source of our power. Doing so with experienced faculty along to ask and answer questions is probably the single most educational thing that will happen to me as I work on my degree. I look forward field trips and will basically skip or postpone everything for the chance to get out on the land.

Later in October, as midterms approached, I got a chance to participate in a field trip to central Idaho's Snake River Plain (red dot on the Google Maps image at right). It's 75 miles across and hundreds long. It's dry and windy, and it's pretty much the only big flat thing anyplace near the northern Rockies. It's also unique because it's made of basalt: extruded volcanic rock. The gurus tell us that it's so flat because the basalt has filled in all the low spots, almost like a lake is flat even if the bottom is not. So where did it all come from? If you follow the plain to it's northeast terminus, you will find yourself at the source: Yellowstone National park in Wyoming's northwest corner (yellow dot), sits atop a geologic hotspot. While the origins and deep mechanics of these features are hotly contested (ding! geology pun), it is certain that they tend to produce a lot of volcanic activity at the surface. As the North American plate has been slowly creeping in a southwest direction, the hotspot has left an elongate scar on its surface: the Snake River Plain. We also visited Craters of The Moon National Monument, a volcanic site which has been active in geologically recent time.

TROUBLEMAKERS AT CRATERS OF THE MOON

Upon returning to Missoula after the Idaho trip, I found myself scrambling with research funding proposals and preparing for midterm exams. But before the exams could be dealt with, I left campus again. This time, I was headed to the Mile-High City for the Geological Society of America (GSA) national meeting. After a beautiful 15 hour drive south including a stop at Bozeman's Museaum of the Rockies, we found Denver full of geologists. The people running the conference knew their clientèle: there is a bar right in the main exhibit hall, and anyone attending gets a free beer there every day. It's about time. I ran into some old Williams friends as well, which is always a treat. They took me to Boulder and fed me more beer. The posters and the talks were all very interesting and educational, and it was good to see first-hand the way my science moves ahead. The only problem was that I had to share Denver with a bunch of happy Mass-holes: the stinking Red Socks were in town to win the World Series against the Rockies. And of course personalities began to grate on the trip back north, but that's to be expected.

I honestly don't really remember much of what happened between Denver and finals. I know there were midterms, and it got darker and colder and my bike got a flat, and even though I fixed it I eventually had to start driving to work because they don't plow anything in Missoula. There was a bunch of racquetball for a while but once finals really got swinging, sleeping and eating were basically my only recreation. Somewhere along the line I discovered that since embarking on the Long trail I had lost about 25 pounds. While somewhat alarming, this did not come as a particular surprise: the long trail was strenuous, and since then I had been maintaining a high energy level for long hours of work on not enough sleep and not really eating enough. So I started cooking pasta by the vat. Amen. Anyways finals showed up, and I worked hard on everything and did what thought was a pretty good job, and decided to make arrangements with the department to serve my internship in Texas this coming spring. The details took some working out, but we succeeded. And the grades from everything even came alright.

So I gave away my stupid inherited piranha, moved my furniture to my friends' basement, put my crap in my car, and hit the road. The first few hours headed east on I-90 were harrowed: did I leave anything behind? Did I forget some important task before leaving? My landlord called to ask me to mail him the keys. I was talking to my mom on the phone when I finally noticed what I was driving through: the highway was following the Clark Fork River up its course, winding through canyons with bedrock on both sides. . Little ranches occupied flat spots on the valley floor: behind split-rail fences, horses grazed through a dusting of fresh snow, with mountains behind and blue sky above. I started wondering how badly I would miss my new home in the west, and how the hell I had managed to spend three months out here doing mostly just a bunch of paperwork, and whether the good grades and strong references would be worth two years of missed fishing, and before I knew it I had blown past Butte with its giant hole in the ground and was climbing the continental divide. I called my dad as I drove over the pass, and I knew that from here out things would start to get flatter... and flatter.

I rolled down the east side of the divide and the last rays of sun came over my right shoulder and played on the Crazy Mountains ahead. Soon it was dark -- I called old friends and kept rolling. The bright lights of Billings came into view, and as I got closer I could smell something... Billings has refineries. I reminded myself that they are necessary to keep the economy from crashing and babies from starving. I knew that working for big oil in Houston this spring, I would be no closer to refining operations than I am now. I hope the people running those places are doing their best to keep things clean, at least. Anyways I jumped on I-94 and ran out of energy by Miles City where I crashed at a Motel 6. Still in Montana after 7 hours of driving. I got up in the morning and discovered I had found the friendliest city on earth. After learning that I was driving east for the holidays, one cashier actually and honestly told me to have a merry Christmas, just in case she didn't see me again. A long way to go to New York.

North Dakota is not a complicated place to drive through. Theodore Roosevelt National Park is beautiful (the hilly section near the interstate is like a northern little brother to the Badlands), and then things stay beautiful but they get flatter and flatter. The roads are straight and it's a long way between... everything. I noticed a few oil pumps here and there, and as the sun went down ESPN radio was interrupted to announce that people should watch out for a red angus steer that escaped from a stockyard, and report its whereabouts to local authorities. If you are driving there an you you are in a hurry (though I suppose you would have flown in that case...), skip Jamestown if you can. Once you are off the highway you need to drive around for fifteen minutes (past every business in town, I'm sure) before they let you back on. Nothing against Jamestown or it's people, it's just not fast is all.

I crossed into Minnesota to be greeted by the first woodsmoke I'd smelled in a long time. Somehow I'm sure I smelled some in Missoula, but something was different as I drove the moonlit backroads towards Little Falls: the high plains' open vistas had been replaced by dense, dark northern forests that seemed to crowd the shoulders of the road with their evergreen shadows, extra thick in the freezing night. The smell of a fire in someone else's hearth conjured feelings of home. I reached little falls and after spending some time winding down and catching up with Melissa, whose hospitality was wonderful as always, I turned in. After an early breakfast I tanked up at a gas station where the snow piles were five feet high and hit the road again and drove into the rising sun and towards Minneapolis, the first of the big Midwest towns. The highway got wider and there were more and more cars, it seemed like ages since I'd seen so many cars though I knew it had only been a couple of days. Driving a long way you watch the landscape change, and feel the pavement under your tires, and this accentuates the passage of time.

In a gas station in Wisconsin I saw the first ice-fishing magazines. NPR was running a special on polkabilly, a strange type of local music, and how it "changed American folk music forever." Who knew. And people talking about how all the guys who played in those bands were pretty good guys because their fathers or grandfathers were from Norway, and why is it that kids these days are so excited to learn the electric guitar but not the accordion?

I have no idea where Illinois is, but you can't miss Chicago. All the maps tell you "three hours to Chicago," and your friends tell you "it's four hours from Chicago." Nobody reminds you that Chicago is not another dot on your map that you just drive past. All the highways come together to get around the south end of Lake Mighican, and it seems like everybody wants to be on one of them. The two hours of five lanes of stand-still, bumper-to-bumper traffic were draining and made me feel far from Missoula, and the sun was already down and I still had miles to go. I took a detour into Indiana to see a friend for some food at a rest stop, and then tore through the dark to arrive in Ann Arbor well after midnight. It was good to see old friends there, and they gave me some new sad cowboy music to keep me going.

I got a late start from there and don't remember much of the last day: there was Ohio, and a city to drive around and cheap gas, and then Erie PA, and then Buffalo, where a cashier at a rest stop laughed at me when I seemed startled at the two dollar price tag on a diet coke. Western New York passed easily, and though it was dark I could feel the land starting to close in on both sides: my heart raced at the first mountains in two days. I had reached my very own Adirondacks, the mountains from "The last of the Mohicans." Soon there were signs for Utica, and I knew that close by in one of my favorite trout streams there were big browns and feisty rainbows, hunkered down and waiting for spring, only stirring to eat the easiest meals until the snowmelt comes and the mayflies hatch. I got to Schenectady and drove through town on roads that I didn't need a map for.

DEFENDING MYSELF AGAINST A WAVE OF ATTACKING COUSINS

The holiday ritual of family and old friends was especially sweet this year, and I had good pictures for everyone. I have been able to get up the mountains twice (not to the high peaks, though): once with good friend Dan, and again to ski with the parents. Seeing my little sisters has been wonderful, they are both doing so well and making me proud. Today a dentist told me two things I already knew: I have a cavity (that's why I went in), and I drink too much diet coke (but the lime kind is so good...).

VIEW SOUTH OVER GREAT SACANDAGA LAKE FROM
HADLY MOUNTAIN FIRE TOWER

Dark day in New York

How often does it happen that all the way out in Montana I can watch a Bills game and a Yankee game on the same night? Not often. And what happens? The Yanks blow it to get knocked out of the playoffs and the Bills lose to Dallas (Dallas!!) in a heartbreaker on the last play of the game. Absolutely un-freaking-believable.

I'm so upset I'm going to do homework.

Go West, Young Man...

CURIOUS GOATS ALONG GLACIER NATIONAL PARK'S HIGHLINE TRAIL

Hello Again to all. I arrived here in Missoula six weeks ago and find myself wondering how the time has gone by so quickly. The answer is that I've been busy! Blessedly busy: between getting unpacked after the move, getting a grip on the start of my Masters degree, and taking advantage of the (prodigious) local outdoor recreational resources, I've had very little time. This is a mixed blessing: on the one hand, I always feel slightly behind. On the other, I have no time to worry about things that don't require worry, and though I'm busy I've been relaxed. This post will be divided up into subject headings because I need to go to bed and this is the most efficient way to get all y'all up to speed. Here we go!

TRIP WEST:
Many thanks to my trusty co-pilot for excellent conversation, for traveling to Albany from Maryland's eastern shore to accompanyme, for driving relief, and for general support during our trip across the country. Additionally, many thanks to all those friends of ours who gave us food, lodging, and fellowship during our journey: without y'all it would have been quite a dreary trip across the midwest, and with ya'll we managed to get all the way to Northwest Montana before having to pay for anything aside from gas and the occasional evening out. Word.

MONTANA LIVING:
Upon arriving in Missoula, I moved into my apartment where I completely furnished my room for under $200 thanks to the many thrift stores in town. It's sweet. The apartment is clean and outfitted with the bachelor basics: ESPN and a grill. I have two roommates who I get along well with.

I also got a bike for free at Free Cycles of Missoula, a great bike co-op/repair shop where people are interested in supporting sustainable transportation. I have about a twelve minute bike ride in to campus, most of which is on a bike trail. I have a milk crate on the rack on my bike and I can use it to get groceries, too. Biking is the best way to get to campus because parking there is a hassle, and also it's cheap and healthy for me and for the atmosphere. Between the exercise of riding in and the coffee with which I typically flood my system every AM, I am even usually awake for class. A lot of nights I find myself riding home from the geology department in the middle of the night. This requires that I bungee cord a flashlight to the front of my bike, and things generally go smoothly with the exception of the fact that Missoulians seem to time their lawn irrigation systems based on when I am commuting home (i.e., I ride through a lot of sprinklers on the bike trail).

GO PLAY OUTSIDE:
As noted above, I've been careful to get out once in a while. Western Montana is rich in scenery, wildlife, and places to hike. I had a solid soak in a hotspring a couple of weekends ago, where I was able to see a buck, a bull moose, and a bunch of naked old hippies. Like I said, wildlife. I also managed to head up to Glacier National Park for an afternoon with some of the other new grad students in the geology department.
Glacier is a strange and wonderful place where the ground and the sky sort of intertwine, no cameras have big enough viewfinders, and basically the best thing humans can do is try to sit still and look at it long enough that their minds quiet down and their eyes open up, and they feel like little children in a big world. For a pathetic attempt at capturing glacier's scenery using a camera, follow this link. There is this crazy thing there called the Going to the Sun Road, which winds through some of the scenic sections of the park. It is covered with cars and Harleys that go up and down it like ants all day long, and at the top of it is the Logan Pass visitor center where you can find a very crowded parking lot, a pisser, an overpriced gift shop, and lots of out-of-place looking Homo sapiens.
We hiked the highline trail north from Logan Pass with the "Garden Wall," along which the Continental Divide runs, on our right. Views were flat stunning, and we ran into a mountain goat kid and it's parent. Note: because they live in places where no predators can get to them, mountain goats have basically no need for a brain. They are incredibly stupid. The kid goat approached within five or ten feet of me while I took pictures, and then began eating a bush on the side of the trail. Every time it turned around and saw me again, it would jump as if startled, look curiously for a few seconds to ensure that I wasn't dangerous, and then get re-distracted by its bush. This happened four consecutive times.
We passed the goats and kept going until we got hungry enough to turn around. When we got back to the visitor's center, there were bighorn sheep in the parking lot. Everybody of course crowded around in an impromptu digital photography firing squad, which was find until the sheep started butting heads with each other and the ranger told us to back off a bit. Yeah, whatever, okay, okay.
Fishing should not go unmentioned: Montana lives up to its reputation, with even my extremely meager fly-fishing skills having produced a whole bunch of trout already. One was quite a large brown trout, almost certainly over twenty inches long and requiring both hands to handle. I had to fight the fish for ten minutes to get it to hand, and it was definitely the largest I've ever caught, of any species, in fresh water. The scenery along the rivers is often beautiful, and the best spot I have found so far is five minutes from my place by car. Sweet.

THAT GRAD SCHOOL THINGIE:
So what do I actually do out here? Well, whatever it is, it apparently takes priority over keeping my blog up to date judging by the amount of time this post sat as a mostly fished draft before I finished writing it (three weeks).

Well, I am a graduate student. It's very important to note the distinction between graduate school and college: at college I felt like I went to school every day, here I feel like I go to work every day. Graduate study is a professional endeavor. Especially in a masters program, I am here for a relatively short time and am working to achieve specific goals (gain necessary tools and identify and complete a thesis project in my area of study). I work a lot, finding myself in the geology building from 8AM to after midnight. I take a full coarseload and teach two sections of the Geology 101 lab (that's how I get money), and try to squeeze project work in between all of that. The first semester of a masters degree tends to be harrowing because there are often a lot of classes to be taken. Classes take a lot of time between scheduled meetings and not-always-completely-necessary busy work, and this gets in the way of more important things, which is frustrating.

While I am certainly behind on sleep, I seem to be coping relatively well with the stress of a full schedule. I have developed a substantial caffeine addiction and drink a full thermos of coffee by lunch every day (after dinner I start on diet coke, which I buy by the liter). While less than ideal, it gets the work done and keeps me attentive.

DR. WINSTON SQUINTS INTO THE WIND

A lot of weekends are field trips, which is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, field trips prevent me from using my weekends to catch up on sleep and personal chores, relax and have fun, or get ahead on work. On the other hand, field trips are often fun and relaxing in themsleves. Last weekend I was on a field trip and we camped on Clark Canyon Reservoir south of Dillon, MT. I spent the evenings drinking beer and listening to our emeritus faculty scream old drinking songs and play the banjo (what can I say, we have good emeritus faculty), and the mornings sipping strong fresh coffee and frying eggs while the sun rose over the reservoir.

Days were spent watching and listening while our faculty, who have seen a lot of rocks and are true experts in the local geology, wave their arms at outcrops and explain their interpretations of the rocks. Or, as the case may be, wave their arms at outcrops and make stuff up and ask us if we agree (happens when we stop at a new place). A lot of time in vans with students leads to interesting conversations and hopefully the start of new friendships. I honestly just can't bring myself to complain.

VIEW FROM THE TENT COULD BE WORSE...

One of the noteworthy things about grad study is that its whole attitude is one of preparation for things to come, whether its career or more school or what. As a young American in a mobile culture, I find myself spending more energy than is probably healthy thinking about who I am. I am not talking about just superficial appearance (a quick look at my wardrobe will tell you that I don't worry too much about that), I'm talking more about my idea of myself. Like, what kind of person am I going to be, what societal categories can I put myself in, and are they cool ones (i.e., am I going to be a counter-culture local organic screw-the-man hippie or a hard worker in a big corporation or a teacher of some sort, or what, and how do my faith and philosophy fit with all of this?). What will the world think of when they hear my name? What will I think of when I think of myself?

The geology department here is very good about connecting me to potential future directions (in fact I have already secured an internship with an oil company for the coming summer). While this is certainly a good thing, it puts a keen edge on the question of identity for me. This is exacerbated to some extent by the Missoula community, which appears to me to very image-focussed. I love the community here: people are passionate and proactive about all kinds of social causes which are very important (environmental, human rights, other social stuff, politics, etc.). But a part of the social energy here is certainly a bandwagon effect: it's cool to be counterculture in Missoula. The outdoorsy/alternative vibe is very loud, and while I sort of fit the bill in the first place, I sometimes catch myself making decisions based on vanity or peer pressure or materialism or image-ism rather than for the right reasons. I suspect this is also the truth for others.

I think it's good that I consider it important that my chosen path is consistent with my understanding of my faith and with my philosophy. It's also natural that I should feel that my career is an important part of what I show the world of myself: it will be what I spend most of my time actually doing. It will be the opus of my time on earth. I should pick a good one (I know, I know, it will probably change a bunch of times, just quiet down and read along so I can get to the point). At any rate, it's a constant exercise to keep a clear head about who I am in this environment. Gotta say, though, that I am glad for the abundance of good music and quality beer in town. Comes with the territory, I suppose.

Overall, I really like being out here so far. As long as I take care of my body and don't agonize now about decisions that can't be made yet, I actually enjoy working hard and learning a lot. There are ample opportunities to take initiative and be rewarded for doing well (another big bullet for grad students to dodge is the narcissism, self-love, and, elitism that come with being told that you are smart and successful). And my work is interesting and the people are good and I am largely able to determine when I work on what and to do things at my own pace. I am glad to be here. Anyways, it's time to fight graduate stress and starvation, I am meeting some friends at their place: they have the food and I am supposed to bring the wine which I have earned the right to drink by pushing through three weeks without a day off (field trips last two weekends). This weekend I should be able to get some R&R and catch up on things a bit. Here's me hoping that actually happens!!

The Long Trail (belated)

Hello there friends. Today is the last day before my classes and responsibilities at the University begin, so I figured I would use some of my remaining free time to update y'all on my current status. I am sorry for waiting so long to post -- as planned, I've taken a circuitous route through the months since my my previous post. After a great trip to the Trap Dyke, the Long Trail fun Began (for photos click here or visit my Picasa site):

Looking back on the trip a month after finishing, relatively few specific experiences stick out in my mind. The experiences and the anecdotes are there, but they are not the first thing that I think of. Instead I remember emotions, people, and places. Anyhow, we successfully walked from Massachusetts to Canada, one step at a time. So since I can't have a conversation with each of y'all, I thought it would be good to send out a little Q&A format thingy to cover the basics -- like the stuff that most people ask when they see us. Please feel very free to attempt to contact me if you want to hear more. So here goes:

Q: Have you guys showered and stuff? You smell terrible!
A: Twice. We actually don't smell bad at all. You smell like soap.

Q: So, are you two still friends at all?
A: We hope so.

Q: How was the Appalachian Trail?
A: Well, We liked it -- there were a lot of people to be friends with. And the trail there is easy. But actually we hiked the Long Trail (LT), which is different from the Appalachian Trail (AT), but they run together for about a hundred miles in the south of VT, so we were on the AT for a while there. The LT was there first. Anyways north of Killington the AT splits of the LT. The LT keeps going the rest of the way up VT, but if you are on the AT you need to take a right so you go to New Hampshire.

Q: Was the weather any good for you?
A: Occasionally. We saw the inside of a lot of clouds, but had beautiful views from Mansfield and from Jay peak.

Q: What did you do if it rained?
A: We hiked in the rain. It was wet.

Q: So what were the highlights?
A: The lifestyle and the people. You meet all kinds of people. And folks are so open and unassuming out there.

Q: And the anti-highlights?
A: Please refrain from speaking about tuna, or ramen. I'm serious. Oh, and we now hate all wet mossy rocks that you are supposed to walk down. Yes, hate.

Q: What are you going to eat now that you are done?
A: Pretty much a lot, but focussing on bread, fresh fruits and veggies, red meat, and beer.

Q: Was it, like, a totally awesome spiritual experience?
A: Yes, but not in the "We had focussed devotion time, and I read 4 books by dead British lay theologians, and had lots of talks about evangelism" sort of way. More in the "God seems wild and mysterious out here, and he is showing me about what I need and what I don't need, and it's healthy for me to see so clearly how much I am dependent on His provision for my physical and spiritual needs, and in our society I think we are addicted to technology and to planning ahead and having a weather report and a cell phone and knowing what time it is and being in a hurry, so we insulate ourselves from some very basic truths about what it means to be a person in creation and out there, things are clearer" sort of way. It's un-nerving to humans to trust a wild and fanciful God, because we are so used to having order and schedules and stuff but He has his own plan and it can be hard to figure out what it is before it is happening to you. But if you put yourself in a situation where you aren't trying to figure it out before then, it's wild and great because you are taking everything one step at a time, in grace, and if you are hoping for something, you pray for it and you don't doubt. Because maybe it will happen and maybe not. I mean, there is a whole interconnected planet down here and I am this real small person with this little idea that I am hoping for, so why would the master of the universe be bothered to worry about if I am having a crappy day or not? But you know, God sort of has his own logic for things and he just might be crazy enough to decide to hook me up on this one. Oh, sweet, blue sky...

(Note: this sequence of events actually happened on Mount Mansfield, where I met my parents to celebrate my Birthday. They brought wine and cupcakes, which were devoured).

Q: Are you glad to be back to real life?
A: This is not real. The trail is way real-er. This crap is all contrived to make us comfortable, it dulls the senses and makes it harder to be real.

Q: I've been thinking about hiking the LT for a while, it just sort of hasn't happened yet. Any advice?.
A: It's awesome. Get out there and do it before you find yourself stuck in a real job with a cubicle and ten days off a year. Advice-wise... leave stuff you don't need at home. Like, leave a lot of stuff at home. Oh, and hike your own hike. But definitely hike.

MT east to VT (in between: ADK!)

MARCY DAM, JUNE 2007

This post will need to be shorter than it should be due to time constraints resulting from sheer laziness. Anyways, here goes: I finished up field camp on June 11, had a cigar and a few beers at some bar in dillon with the rest of the crew, and then proceeded north to Missoula where I was able to find an apartment for the fall prior to flying back to Albany on June 16. Sweet.

After a day or two of vegging out at home I headed north for the Adirondack high peaks with my high school friend Tom and his friend Mike from college. Tom and I have been hiking together since his mom was our cub scout leader-- it's been over a decade and lots of education and growing up and all of that crap, but we still like it! Here we are at Marcy Dam on June 18:

The hike went as follows: we parked at the ADK lodge and proceeded south on the trail to Marcy Dam where we camped monday night. In the morning we were woken up by the (loud) birds so we stashed our stuff under a lean-to and hit the trail early, hiking south through Avalanche Pass and eventually to beautiful Avalanche Lake -- one of the prettyest spots in the 'dacks that I've seen. Our attemts at photogrophy basically fail to do justice to the morning light playing on the water and the walls:

VIEW NORTH OVER AVALANCHE LAKE

The trail continues south around the lake on its western side. The sheer cliffs dive straight into the water at some places so the trail is on wooden planks bolted directlyi into the rock with nothing under them. Don't drop your sunglasses here, but it's a cool spot. Once you get to the south end of the lake you double back on the east side and bushwhack north through the woods for a ways until you reach a spot where boulders seem to spill out of the mountain on your right-hand site: the mouth of the dyke. Hang a right and start climbing: from here the route goes up steeply all the way to the summit of Mt. Colden and includes clambering up large boulders and rock faces followed by a slightly precarious walk up the steeply sloping slab that forms Colden's northwest slope.
After summiting Colden, we visited Indian Falls on the Way to Tabletop Mountain, which has views which can be optimistically described as very underwhelming. We hit it because it's one of the 46 peaks above 4,000 feet in the Adirondacks and it's cool if you can do them all. After Tabletop the weather started turning sour so we opted not to summit Phelps even though there was plenty of light left and we walked right bast the trail up it. We reached the lean-to at Marcy Dam just before the sky opened up poured. Lightning struck just across the pond from us and the thunder made quite a racket. After the hiking, i fell asleep in the lean-to despite the storm. As soon as it cleared we gathered our gear and rolled out towards the cars at the ADK lodge but were not fast enough: another storm broke while we were about a quarter of a mile out from the vehicles and we were completely -- and i do mean absolutely completely -- soaked through by the time we got there. Well, crap happens, you know? Anyways the ride home when fine and at the end of the day, a good time was had by all.

Since then I've been preparing for my upcoming trip to Vermont, where I will hike the Long Trail from Massachussets to Canada. This will be 270 miles. We (myself and Tom Jones, as opposed to Tom ligon who I was in the Adirondacks with...) decided to take it easy and stop to see some friends in Burlington. We will be in vermont for about a month. Preparations include the purchase and organization of gear and food, contacting folks to set up supply drops and whatnot, and my personal pet project of building an alcohol-burning stove out of Red Bull cans. The think is tiny and it rocks. We leave tomorrow.

I will update this post with more photos and links to interesting things upon my return from VT, as well as of course creating a new post regarding that trip.

Wish me luck (luck = good weather, no bears, and not running out of food).

Mining History

Well, I'm down to the last day of field camp. One to go. And during this day I'll need to fill in a couple of holes in the map I've cobbed together of the Badger Pass area, to the west of Dillon. Badger Pass is located right between two historic montana mining districts: a few miles north is the Ermont district, and a few miles south is the Bannack district. Both were the sites of significant gold mining activity in the late nineteenth and earty twentieth centuries. The deposits mined included gravels, which were run through a waterworks or panned to remove gold pieces, and also ores. The geologic context is that Mississippian carbonate rocks have been thrust-faulted over Cretaceous intrusive and volcanic rocks in the area, with the fault plane running just beneath the surface in many places. Later in the Cretaceous, and igneous intrusion showed up on the scene, causing mineralized fluids to move around in the rocks. Among other things, these fluids contained ions of precious metals. The fluids would commonly follow the weak zone of the previous fault plane, and contact with the carbonates would alter their pH, causing the ions to come out of solution and form ore deposits, which were presumably subsequently mostly dug up by crazy old-timey Yosemite Sam type guys.

Walking in the field, one is confronted with constant reminders of the area's history (see link to right for photos): it's almost impossible to find a spot where you can't see prospect pits, tailing piles, or a dilapidated log building of one sort or another. And once in a while you chance upon a mine shaft: a gaping hole in the earth going straight down into blackness. Some of the shafts are covered surrounded by barbed wire fences, while others are coverd by a big steel grate that you can walk out on, perching yourself over the darkness. Looking down it's very hard not to feel a little spooked. If you yell down the shaft there is no echo, and if you drop a pebble through the grate, you don't hear it hit anything until after you are wondering if you might have missed the sound. We were also able to visit the ghost town of Bannack, first capital of Montana Territory. Bannack was a typical mining boom town -- two years after gold was struck near Grasshopper creek, a town of 3 to 5 thousand people existed where there had previously been nothing. The population of Bannack is back down to zero lately, and the ghost town has been made a state park and national historic site. The State of Montana maintains a web resource on abandoned mines and you can check out the history of Bannack here.

In addition to cool old buildings and stuff, the local lore is also quite interesting: Legend has it that gold shipments from Bannack were not making it to their destination (Virginia City, to the East). They were all being hijacked and no survivers were left to identify the thieves. Understandably, the businessmen of Bannack were concerned. So they formed a masonic group and began to search for answers. The theory they developed was that the sherrif was involved in a criminal gang which had a mole in the telegraph office in Virginia City and so was able to learn when the shipments were coming and ambush the caravans. The businessmen took justice into their own hands and formed a vigilante band which proceeded to hunt down accused gang members all over Montana. It's said that once they caught a guy they'd stand him on the stool and put the noose around his neck and ask him for the names of three others involved in the gang. Fearing for his life, he'd give them names. Then they'd kick out the stool anyways and go look for the guys he'd ratted out. Eventually the shipments were able to get through and things calmed down a bit. Case closed, right? Maybe. The stolen gold was never found: either the looters were able to sell it, it's still hidden someplace in the hills (we've been looking: no luck so far), or else some other funny business was afoot. Some people think that the sherrif was never involved at all, and that the vigilante businessmen had been pocketing the gold under the table all along. Blaming the sherrif would be convenient because it would call into question any accusations he might make of them, and stringing him up would simplify the cover-up operation by removing the detective and providing a scapegoat. The vigilantes all became powerful political families in the Territory and eventually the state, and needless to say the case has never been re-opened. So I guess we'll have to hike around in these hills bearing that uncertainty, but certainly glad that justice has become at least slightly more organized and armed highway robbery a little less common over the past hundred years or so.

Ash Flows and Hot Springs

The past couple days have been good. After four days of mapping in the beautiful Clark Canyon Reservoir area (follow this link for some photos), we handed our maps in on monday night before heading to Anderson Ranch on Tuesday.


We hiked around and Professor Jim showed us some remarkable ash deposits. It was relaxing to just be able to listen out of curiousity and not have a grade riding on it. And then today we drove to Jackson, MT where there is a hot springs that you can soak in.

It was also relaxing, because, well, it's easy to relax when you are sitting in a hot springs and drinking a beer with friends, right?

It's notable that the ash flows and the hot springs are both evidence of how volcanically active southwest Montana really is: The ash deposits are fluvially focused flows derived from an ash fall. According to Jim, what happened is that about ten million years back or so volcanic activity associated with the geologic hot spot currently located beneath Yellowstone park shot a column of hot ash high into the atmosphere. Upon cooling, the column collapsed on itself and spread out over the surrounding area, blanketing everything in up to several feet of the stuff. Rain washed the unconsolidated sediment off the hills and it piled up in river valleys to many times its original thickness (the deposits we saw were over 100 feet thick). These deposits consolidated over time into weak rock called tephra, which is how we find them. After visiting the ash, we hiked to the top of a ridge and got some pretty good views of the valley despite constantly changing weather.

(More photos of the Anderson Ranch area are up on my picasa page)

By the time we got back to Dillon it was pouring sheets of rain -- the first rain of much substance since my arrival almost a month ago. It will blow the fishing out pretty badly for a while. A relaxed evening and morning in the dorms and we were able to muster ourselves to get in the car and drive the hour to Jackson, MT.

Jackson is at just under 6500 feet and it was snowing pretty well when we got there. (This after two days ago when it was 85, sunny, and dry). And to our dismay, the hot springs pool was empty (*gasp!*). Fortunately, it was only temporarily empty for cleaning, which apparently happens on wednesdays. The waters of the Jackson springs are geothermally heated underground by the proximity of molten rock someplace down there. The water comes to the surface and gets pumped around town to people's radiators, heating the buildings at very low cost. Then it comes out of a pipe at the top end of the pool at the lodge, still pretty scalding hot, and helps to relax locals and passers-through. Louis and Clark came through on their trip. One anectode is that since their thermometer was busted by then, they told how hot the water was by how hot they could stand to sit in it. Apparently the journal claims one of them got nineteen minutes, but reports from folks who have read the actual journals suggest this is inaccurate and the springs were much hotter than that (see comment below). Well anyways, it takes a while to fill the pool up so we took advantage of the lodge's collasal fireplace and looked around at the impressive array of dead things' heads on the walls while we waited. Once it was full enough to walk down to the deep end and lie down and be covered, we went for it. It was, of course, still snowing, which made for a lot of steam coming off the water and the nifty feeling of being really warm while cold wind nips at your face. The water of course has traveled a ways from the source by this point and it cools off a little bit in the pool so we were able to stay in a couple of hours before scrambling through the snow and into the lodge to get ready to head back to Dillon (incidentally, I lost my second watch of field camp in the scramble. I think maybe I quit buying watches for a while...)

NOTES:

* One mapping project left before heading to Missoula with the mission of finding an apartment in 3 days. Hoping to find a place cheap enough I can break even on my stipend. Slightly anxious about that...

* Congrats to Carolyn for graduating!

* Preparations continue for the Long Trail hike. How exciting!

* I am thinking about choosing classes for the fall, which brings up the question of what direction to take with my Masters degree and rouses the spectre of the potential for needing to figure out what to do with my life after the degree... oh, bother...

Southwest Montana

The last few weeks (and the next couple) find me in scenic southwest Montana where I am a participant in the University of Montana Department of Geology's summer field course (photos avaiable here). The purpose of the course is to teach geology students the skills of recognizing geologic structures and relationships in the field and presenting that information coherently in the form of maps and cross-sections. This course is a re-introduction to field geology for me in preparation for the beginning of my work on a Masters degree at the U of M this coming fall.

Projects usually consist of five days devoted to mapping an area of six to ten square miles, and a day in the field starts when we all pile out of the van sometime around 8:30, complete with compasses, maps, hand lenses, hammers, lunch, extra layers (weather here changes remarkably quickly), and whatever else we feel like lugging up and down ridges all day. We sometimes have guidance of professors, but mostly are left to our own devices for the day and wander like tiny ants over sage-covered hill and dale, gathering data, discussing hypotheses, pondering imponderables, and enjoying the quiet. Typically there is some effort made to start the day with a group but I inevetably am on my own within a few hours -- the country is pretty open but the ridges and valleys sort of swallow people up, and before you know it folks who you were talking with at the last outcrop are tiny figures you have to squint to see on the next ridge. The first thing you do is learn to recognize the rock types in the area. After this you attempt to comprehend the basic structures: folds, faults, and what have you. This requires the ability to move mentally from looking at a collection of data points on a map to envisioning a three-dimensional structure. Last, and probably most challenging, you want to cover as much area as possible to make you map as accurate as possible, choosing transects that bring you through well-exposed rocks and structurally important or tricky areas but still getting you back to the van by four. Evenings are spent going over notes and preparing cross-sections, keys and other materials.

We get an off day between projects. According to faculty, the injury rate on off days is astronomically higher than on work days. This doesn't suprise me because as soon as things are handed in (due 8pm on the the last day of a project), everybody proceeds to the campsite where most students are staying and proceeds to indulge in an evening of revelry around a fire. In the morning the gang compares hangovers and then goes rock climbing or, as I prefer, fishing.

Being without a car, I am somewhat limited in my fishing opportunities. I have two options: either go with someone else, which is difficult to arrange as I do not live at the campsite but in a dorm along with our faculty at a small local college, or walk to the park in town. The park in town recieves heavy pressure and is the site of choice for locals who take a lot of fish out, so it's probably some of the lousiest fishing around. I have not been able to catch any trout yet, but I do not despair -- if I am not able to get any before I finish field camp, I will return in the fall with two deadly weapons: my fly-tying stuff, which allows me cheaply create flies of whatever type I need, and my subaru, which allows me to drive to stupider fish.

Recent News:
My kick-ass little sister and her the rest of the Williams women's team won the 2007 NCAA division III national championship in rowing.

The future:

* Field camp ends June 12, I will go to Missoula, MT and look for an apartment before flying home to upstate NY on June 16

* Following a week or so of re-boot at home, the noble Thomas Jones and I will embark on an end-to-end hike of Vermont's Long Trail. We expect to complete the approximately 270 mile trek from Massachussetts to Canada in three to four weeks' time.

* After the hike I will have a few weeks at home to relax and prepare for the drive west, tentatively set for August 10. On this voyage I will have the always-pleasant company of one Mr. Victor King, strong in spirit as well as in name.

Why, oh why?

Why is an important question. This is kind of an experimental way for me to process life and possibly to keep far-off friends and family updated on my situation. It's not intended to replace personal correspondence with folks or to be a meticulous record of my day to day thoughts -- personal correspondence is way too important and day-to-day ruminations are far too tedious without being particulary interesting. Some of what is written will probably also be sent out in e-mails. Links of pictures of life are a nice little feature, and this way information is better organized and more accessable both to me and to others. Comments are welcome.

Time will tell if this is or is not useful...