Upper McKenzie River/McKenzie Pass Guide

I promised a friend I would write up a self-guided tour of the area described in the title before this weekend, and if I'm going to get it done, it needs to be now. I don't have mileages, but I can post links that have lat/lon details embedded, and satellite imagery. Oh, and photos, of course. Oh, and links to old posts (maybe).

Before starting: Advice

• Gas up before you leave Sweet Home (probably cheapest here or out at I-5). There's no gas for most of the trip until near the end.
• Take food. There's a mom and pop burger joint at Clear Lake Resort, but it may be seasonal; I'm not certain it's open at this point.
• Take layers and a windbreaker. It'll be a lot chillier at Pass levels, and it's often quite windy, so even if you don't need it, be ready to warm up.
• I just checked: McKenzie Pass appears to still be open, which I expected, but for future reference, it's often closed at this point. It generally doesn't reopen until sometime in July.

Let's start with the Rte 34 crossing over I-5 as a beginning. Continue east through Lebanon, where 34 is rejoined by Rte 20, then on through Sweet Home. Stay on 20 until you come to McKenzie Junction. From I-5, I'm guessing this is a bit more than an hour, maybe 1:15 or thereabout. At the Junction with 126, there's a good pullout just after the turn. (Crosshairs on pullout here.) Walk back up the grade, west, along 20- there's a wide berm, and a great view of Three Fingered Jack.

Also, at this time of year, the vine maples are flaming red. Very evocative on the recent lava flow.

Speaking of lava flows, this is the first of many recent ones you'll see today. On the drive up from Sweet Home, you've been traveling through Western Cascades Volcanic rocks, which range in age from about 35 million to 5 million years old. Coming down this hill, you crossed from Western Cascades to High Cascades volcanics, which started about 5 million years ago, and continue to present. If I recall correctly, this flow is one of several from the Sand Mountain chain of cinder cones, at about 3000 years ago. More info here.

Head south on 126 to the Fish Lake parking area. Most of the year, this location is a meadow, but during late winter and spring melt and runoff, it fills with water and a native trout that resides in the creek most of the time occupies the lake. As it dries during the summer, they return to the creek. An interpretive sign describes their situation: apparently, they're reproductively isolated, and seem to be in the process of speciation- though that's my inference, and not explicitly stated on the sign.

Continue south, watching for signs to the Clear Lake Resort- it's a turn to the left, and always comes sooner than I expect.

A different lava flow than we saw at the junction blocked the McKenzie River about 3000 years ago. Most of the time, except for occasionally during peak melt-off, the lake is entirely spring fed, with no surface streams running into it. Nevertheless, the McKenzie River drains out of it, full-blown. There's a river's worth of springs under this lake! Also, you can see the trunks of trees drowned when they were inundated 3000 years ago!

Also, weird illusions... is this boat *in* the lake, or floating a few feet above it?

There are something like 18 lakes with the same name in Oregon, but to my mind, there's only one "Clear Lake." Note the drive in and out of the resort is south to north, so you passed the exit getting here, and you'll pass the entrance again once you leave. You have my permission to drive back through again. I mean, who could blame you? Continue south, and turn off (right) in a couple miles to Sahalie Falls.

According to the person who did her doctoral dissertation on the hydrology of this area, little or no water is added to the flow between here and Clear Lake, so this is a dramatic demonstration of just how much spring water flows into the lake.

Continue a few miles south to the Koosah Falls turn off, then drive in a ways to park. This is a frustratingly difficult waterfall to get a good view of, but there is a view area along the southern loop of the footpath.

You can also see the brink from a viewpoint there, but you can't really see the falls themselves. The really interesting thing is all the springs coming out of the walls in the lower gorge.

Continue south on 126 to the junction with McKenzie Highway, 242, and turn east (left). This looks like it's about 14 or 15 miles from Koosah Falls. Head east on 242 to Proxy falls, and park in the pullout on the left. There's a nice ~1 mile loop trail to Lower and upper Proxy Falls. The lower falls are quite spectacular.

The upper falls aren't as grand, but they *do* offer a nice analogy for all the weird water goings-on in this area: They originate as springs above the cliff, fall over it, and the plunge pool sinks right back into the ground. I don't think this "stream" even has a name; it's only a few hundred feet long. Incidentally, this lava flow is from Collier Cone, up near the North Sister, and at only 1600 years old, is the youngest lava flow you'll see today.

Continue the loop back to your vehicle, then continue driving east. You're heading up a glacial valley that was incised into the High Cascades during the last ice age, and the road switches back and forth to climb up the headwall of that valley's cirque. It gets... hairy. Take it slow and easy- the road's in good shape, it's just kinda scary. You can see why they don't maintain it for winter travel, though.

When you come out on top of the plateau, the road straightens out, the trees are much more sparse, and the views open up. This is from the edge of the first lava flow you encounter on the roadside after you're up on the plateau.

It may not look like anything special, but this young volcanic landscape is why there are so many springs: hundreds of inches of snow fall up here every winter. When that snow melts, all the water just runs into the ground, then re-emerges as springs along the Upper McKenzie River. The almost entirely spring-fed nature of that section is also why the water quality is so stunningly high. Continue east toward McKenzie Pass. There are several pull-outs on the right, with nice views of the Sisters.

Then comes McKenzie Pass and the Dee Wright Observatory. This spot is an Oregon Gem, but I'm always surprised how few know of it.

The lower story is enclosed, and each of the windows faces toward a particular volcano. The labels under the windows aren't easy to read in some cases. But the upper story is open, and has a compass rose point out many visible peaks. If you have time and interest the trail out onto the flow has quite a few informative signs.

This is more or less the end, but you have a couple of choices here. First, continue east to Sisters, then Head back to Corvallis over 20 and Santiam Pass- more scenic, but longer. Second, you can turn around and head back on 242 to 126, then follow 126 to Eugene/Springfield, then take I-5 back north to 34. Shorter and quicker, but less scenic. Hope this was fun! Below, geologists in their preferred habitat.

Well, Hello Again, and Quake Preparedness

I make no apologies. This summer has been brutally hot. I don't cope well with heat, and thinking is one of my most impaired abilities. But we had our first rain in 89 days over the weekend, and it's been somewhat cooler since Saturday. So time to get back on the blog.

One of the big stories over the summer, if you missed it, was from Kathryn Schulz in New Yorker Magazine, on the coming Great Cascadia Quake. One of the political blogs I follow had a post from earlier today, after catching the article a month later. Below is the email I've spent much of the afternoon composing, which I just sent the author.
_________________________________________________________________________________

You're more than a month behind on finding this, but no matter. I'm glad it's catching eyes outside the PNW, where I live, and the geological community, of which I am a part. Most of us felt the article was more or less accurate, but overwrought, sensationalist, and most of all, fatalistic. The fact is, running through some simple calculations, the estimated chance of dying in such an event is about 1 in 1000. The chance of injury is about 3 in 1000. So the vast majority of us will ride it out unscathed- in fact the numbers are dis-proportionally higher for the coast, and lower for those of us in the Willamette Valley, the latter being where most of Oregon's population lives, works, and goes to school.

Given that, I was disappointed, first, by Schultz' lack of discussion of basic preparation measures, most of which are cheap and easy, and could be largely addressed in an afternoon's shopping trip. Namely, water, food that doesn't require preparation other than a can-opener, pet supplies if applicable, radio, flashlight, batteries, first aid kit, and so on. These are non-disaster specific, and can be useful during any sort of disruption, of any duration. The problem here is that our utilities and other infrastructure are likely to be unusable for months after a great quake, with full recovery taking years to a decade or more, so I describe the situation as "being ready for a 2-4 week no-frills camp-out,with no warning." (Following that relatively short period, presuming we don't have another GWB as president, emergency response will take off a lot of the self-reliance pressure) Put like that, it's easy to imaging how to prepare. But seeing it as "Everything west of I-5 will be toast," well, Christ, how do you prepare for that!? As I indicated above, fatalism is perhaps the biggest danger we face in this situation.

Second, there are a few structural measures that most homeowners in the region seem to be largely unaware of. The easiest is to firmly strap down the water heater. Assuming the house survives, this will assure a relatively large reservoir of potable water, one of the most important components of riding this beast out. Another, likely the most expensive, is to bolt wood-framed houses to the foundation, to make sure they don't fall off it. My understanding is that this is the most important measure, but it costs a few thousand dollars. However, given house prices, this is typically around 1 to 1 1/2 percent of their value, and while not a guarantee, most likely assures a house will ride out a quake and remain habitable. Which, not incidentally, would make the "camp-out" a lot easier to endure. I've also seen friends' posts about cross-bracing structural members in the attic and walls, which is supposed to dampen the oscillations. However, I'm a geologist, not a carpenter or engineer, so I don't really know. Securing large objects (e.g. book cases, refrigerators and so on) to walls can prevent injuries inside, as otherwise, they're likely to fall over.

Third, Schultz' portrayal of States' and smaller government agencies' preparation and response plans is terribly lopsided. The magnitude of expenditures needed is certainly in the hundreds of billion dollars range, and may reach trillions. There simply no way to retrofit all the things that need it in less than decades- which we likely have before the next great quake. However, slowly but surely, it is happening. I spend most of my waking life just off the Oregon State University Campus, and at any given time, there are one or two buildings closed for a couple of years for seismic refits. All new construction (and there is a lot of it right now) is required to meet strict seismic codes. K-12 schools across the state are a high priority, but again, costs make that slow. Nevertheless, that too is happening, though you'd never know it from the article. Public facilities such as hospitals, police and fire stations, and government offices, at least here in Benton County, have been retrofitted to be occupiable- that is, usable- following a quake, so they can serve as shelters, organization and command centers, aid stations, and so on. (An easier seismic target is "survivable," which means the building is unlikely to collapse or otherwise kill/injure occupants, but is less likely to be safely used or occupied afterwards. This is often the target for education infrastructure.)

The last parenthetical reminds me of a common joke among geology-types: "Earthquakes don't kill people. Buildings kill people." The upshot is, we can fix the buildings so they don't, or are much less likely to.

So the short version is that Schultz' piece is accurate, except in terms of omission. She left out an awful lot of important information which, instead of panicking PNW residents, could have spurred thoughtful reflection on their part of what they could do now to be better prepared in the aftermath. Initially, I was quite irritated by the article, but over the last month or so, I've seen a ramp-up in awareness and people asking questions, in a way I haven't since the Tohoku quake in March of 2011. In addition, I understand she has written a follow-up article in the same magazine, where she does cover much of the above discussion. I haven't read that one yet, but I'm looking forward to it. I was quite upset by Willamette Valley folks asking about life rafts and jackets to survive the coming tsunami. (Here, we're at about 240 feet elevation. Even in Portland, where there's still tidal influence in the rivers, very little effect is expected from the tsunami. Shaking, is, of course, a very different matter.)

Thanks for slogging through my verbosity, but this is a set of information I've been wildly pushing to get out since the article was published. Please feel free to pass along any portion or all of this letter, as you choose. I didn't see any way to leave a comment, especially one of this length, so chose to e-mail instead.

Best wishes,

Lockwood DeWitt

Geo 1095: April 1, Day 821: Struggling Sentinal

Another near-repeat photo , compare this to one from 2+ years ago. That post explains my understanding of this side of the High Cascades Graben.As I mentioned a few days ago, individual trees out on the fresh lava flow, once they get established, can get quite large. The one closest to the middle here is another example, but it looks as if it's struggling to hold on now.

Farther back in the photo, Route 126 turns south through the lava field. The geologist in me loves this scene, but the simple human in me looks at this rough, rubbley landscape and cringes. I would not want to walk directly across this short distance, and likely couldn't do so without some sort of injury, possibly quite serious. The fact that engineers and equipment can build such a structure as that highway across this landscape is, on hand, inspiring, but on the other, sobering and a little scary. If we can shape this landscape to fit our needs and desires, what lands are safe from our hands? Very few, I'm afraid.

Photos unmodified. October 9, 2012. FlashEarth Location.

Geo 730: November 3, Day 672: Rooted in Geology

The factor that drew settlers to Oregon was its rich farmland, but the factor that shaped the first incorporated city west of the Rocky Mountains was geology. Skipping inland and north from the previous post, we find... Yes! More basalt. Specifically, more Columbia River Basalt. Here it forms a resistant lip over which the Willamette River pours, creating the largest waterfall by volume in the Pacific Northwest (see note). That sort of hydraulic head is a wonderful source of cheap power- early on, mechanical, later, as you can see from the sign, electrical.

Note: Celilo Falls, in the Columbia River Gorge, was the most voluminous in the PNW, and it certainly deserves the title, but it was inundated by the construction of the Dalles Dam. I'm very sorry to have missed it. Among other interesting trivia, "Celilo was the oldest continuously inhabited community on the North American continent until 1957..."

Photo unmodified. October 10, 2012. FlashEarth Location.

Geo 730: September 28, Day 636: Shy (Con)Seal(ment)

Here's another example of how this resistant basalt provides habitat for a wide variety of sea creatures. He (or she) was watching very carefully as we explored the southeast end of Cobble Beach, staying mostly hidden behind the rocks. The seal would lower itself out of sight for a moment, then slowly pop up to check on us again. It's not easy to spot at this scale, but look for the light spot, right near the center of the photo. Maybe a crop would help:

Peek-a-Boo!

Photo unaltered. July 15, 2014. FlashEarth Location.

Geo 730: September 25, Day 633: The Other Rocks

The rocky island from two days ago is to the left in this photo, and you can see a larger one in the foreground and a third in the back right. The foreground rock is also covered with nesting birds, which commenter Bob P. identified yesterday as predominantly common murres (I think there are some cormorants in there too, the black ones in the second crop in yesterday's post). Whodathunk, when this Columbia River Basalt erupted some 16 to 18 million years ago, that it would later be infested with marine-dwelling dinosaurs?

Photo unaltered. July 15, 2014. FlashEarth Location.

Geo 730: September 24, Day 632: The Birds

The sheer number of birds nesting on this rock was overwhelming. People were grumbling about the stench, but I hardly noticed it in my awe of the density of living things in front of me. I'm not going to try to guess what species are here; I don't know my birds very well. The full-size panorama is 6148 by 1331 pixels, so even expanding this image to full size, given blogger's size constraints, results in a tremendous loss of resolution. Below are some crops to illustrate:

 Near the middle.

 To the right.

To the left. Stunning!

Photo unaltered. July 15, 2014. FlashEarth Location.

Geo 730: September 23, Day 631: The Rock

Not Alcatraz, of course, but a rocky island of Columbia River Basalt south of Yaquina Head. Newport, Oregon is in the distance. You can't really tell at this scale, but that rock is literally covered with wall-to-wall nesting seabirds (Open the photo for full size; they're much more apparent in a larger version). The only thing remotely similar I've seen is penguin colonies in Antarctica. There- my vision wasn't good enough to tell, here- the spacing is determined by how far the birds can crane out and peck while sitting in their nests. The nests will be far enough apart that any two that are occupied will be far enough apart that their residents can't quite reach each other. This is a great example of how differential weathering and erosion- physical processes- have a profound influence on and benefit to biological processes.

Photo unaltered. July 15, 2014. FlashEarth Location.

Geo 730: April 12, Day 468: Motion Blur

Not the best photo, but that's one of the risks of drive-by geology. It appears that this slump started slowly, and that maintenance crews initially didn't realize the entire base was mobile. You can see the attempts to patch the cracks in the old road surface, now completely torn asunder.

Photo unmodified. July 10, 2012. FlashEarth location.

Geo 730: April 11, Day 467: Sunken Grade

After departing Agate Beach, we drove north past Beverly Beach and Otter Crest. I believe this road... disruption... was just before the pullout to Beverly Beach. It's a bit counter-intuitive; we're facing north, so the ocean is to our left, but the slump movement was clearly to the right. I'm pretty sure what happened here was the result of erosion in a stream off to the right, hidden in this perspective. Coast range sediments in this area weather quickly in our mild, moist climate, and mass movements of various kinds- slumps, slides, rock falls and debris flows- are common. Most of the time, though, they're not quite as in-your-face as this one.

Photo unmodified. July 10, 2012. FlashEarth location.

Geo 365: Nov. 24, Day 328: Reminders

After our quick stop at the southeast end of the bridge across Brush Creek for the views of the tormented trees, we headed up the road a mile or so, then turned into Humbug Mountain State Park. Then we headed back west, through the campground, to a day-use parking area, with a paved trail under the bridge and down to the beach.

Even during the late 80's and 90's, sporadic "tsunami evacuation route" signs were popping up in coastal towns, but the Tohoku quake and tsunami seems to have really boosted awareness and planning efforts. While signs such as the above do not indicate any immediate danger, they are present at just about all (if not all) shore access points I've been to since that event. And I distinctly remember, in this case, surveying the landscape around me thinking, "What if the car is blocked in by debris? Where would we go?" In other words, the chance of being in tsunami danger is almost nil, but not quite. Being reminded in this manner to simply look around and assess the situation is for me, and I truly hope for many others as well, a very useful public service. Over the last few years, this has become a normal habit of mind when I'm below about 50 feet elevation at the coast.

Photo unmodified. May 7, 2013. FlashEarth location.

Geo 365: Nov. 23, Day 327: Windswept II

A close-up of the ridge line on the north side of Humbug Mountain. If you look down under the foliage, you can see the trees grow more or less straight up to that level, then simply torque over about 60 degrees or so. I'm sure if you had a well-insulated concrete bunker, with foot-thick bullet-proof glass, sitting out a storm here would be a wonderful experience. I suspect without those amenities, it would likely be one's final experience.

Photo unmodified. May 7, 2013. FlashEarth location.

Geo 365: Nov. 22, Day 326: Windswept

We're looking southward up Humbug Mountain here, from the bridge that carries Route 101 across Brush Creek. The rock here is Humbug Conglomerate, if I recollect. (Computer and wifi are being fussy right now, and I think the reference I typically fall back on for this area may be temporarily off-line, so I'll double check and correct later, if need be.) But for our first brief stop here, I wanted to show Dana the brute force that the coastal winds exert on the confers growing on the mountainside. Brush Creek has carved a minor canyon north of the mountain, one of the highest (if not the highest) rising directly from the coast in Oregon. This funnels the wind up the canyon, increasing its speed. Those trees show the effect of their frequent torment by coastal gales. Indeed, this section of road around Humbug Mountain takes its toll on travelers as well. Wind-caused accidents are not uncommon here, and during particularly severe storms, it's often simply closed as too dangerous to use.

Photo unmodified. May 7, 2013. FlashEarth location.

Geo 365: Nov. 21, Day 325: Port Orford's "Port"

The "port" at Port Orford consists of a high dock, with a pair of cranes to physically lift boats out of the water. It appears that there are a pair of boats queued up for their turn, but despite waiting in the chilly wind for some time, we didn't actually get to see the feat accomplished. At a certain point, despite sheltering behind a concrete wall/windbreak, it was just too frigid to wait any longer.

This is certainly an odd situation, and it's related (unsurprisingly, if you know me) to the geological setting of this area. The coast side of the Coast Range and Klamath Mountains get tremendous amounts of rain, so coastal streams and rivers tend to be common and closely spaced, with a significant river every 30 miles or so as one travels north or south. As a result, the drowned estuaries of these drainages make for excellent ports. The typical range for a fishing boat is 30 miles in a day- as much as 15 miles out and 15 miles back to port. But in this area, there isn't a large river and natural port. Bandon to Gold Beach, Oregon, is about 55 miles. This means without an "artificial" port such as this one at Port Orford, a fairly large segment of our rich coastal fishing would be inaccessible. Given that reality, the construction of this dock in a relatively sheltered cove makes good sense.

Photo unmodified. May 7, 2013. FlashEarth location.

Geo 365: Nov. 20, Day 324: Port Orford and Humbug Mountain

Looking south from Port Orford to Humbug Mountain, which is cut off in the low clouds. The abundant sea stacks of the southern Oregon coast are apparent here. Port Orford is uniquie in Oregon in that there isn't actually a "port." As we'll see tomorrow, there is instead a dock with cranes.

Photo unmodified. May 7, 2013. FlashEarth location.

Geo 365: Oct. 30, Day 303: Basalt Terrace North

Looking north from the same spot as yesterday's shot, on the far horizon to the right, another housing development is visible. I reiterate my comments from that post on why that flat area looks ideal for coastal development. It looks (from a driveway in the full-size view) that the headland between here and there is a park. Early in the 1900's, the then-Governor of Oregon declared the Oregon Coast a "highway," in part because at the time there were few roads in the area, and sandy areas at low tides were in fact important transportation corridors. It also gave the state complete jurisdiction over the area. I don't recall the details of how it's written, but basically the state owns all the land along the coast up to a certain elevation, and the general public is guaranteed access if it's physically available. So landowners can't buy lots and block people from "their beach," or "their cove." As a result, there are innumerable places with what I refer to as "pocket parks," which may be nothing more than parking lots allowing access to particular bits of Oregon's uniquely under-developed "highway."

Photo unmodified. May 6, 2013. FlashEarth location. (The houses appear to be the southern end of the coastal community of Depoe Bay, famously the site of the fishing excursion in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.")

Geo 365: Oct. 29, Day 302: Basalt Terrace

A mile or so north of Otter Rock, there is a shelf of elevated terrace developed on the Columbia River Basalt flows. This creates a nice flat space that can be developed for residences or vacation homes. I'm guesstimating these are about 60-70 feet above sea level, so they're probably out of the tsunami risk zone in the event of a great Cascadia quake/tsunami. And since you ask, no, I can't go to the coast these days without posing questions like that to myself. It's not a phobia, it's not even really a "jittery" feeling. It's more than simply an intellectual curiosity, though. I consider it a sensible feeling of caution, like consciously scanning a street scene before I cross... "Is it safe?" In addition, having the foundations of these dwellings directly on bedrock means that the effects of the shaking will probably be less severe than if they were on unconsolidated fill. Long and short, this is a highly desirable spot for development, and not just for the view.

Photo unmodified. May 6, 2013. FlashEarth location.

25 Minutes of Agonizing Helplessness

A recently found and released video of the 2011 Japanese tsunami has got to be seen to be believed. I generally don't watch clips longer than a few minutes, but what this one illustrates is just how unbelievably long the tsunami advances. I can think of no other way to show this than actually seeing that duration. And there are some cuts, so it's not clear if we're actually seeing the whole thing.

The first arrival is about 3 minutes in, and at first it doesn't look all that bad, though the boats being swept up and along are dramatic. Obviously, the onlookers are unimpressed at first, as well; they're remarkably nonchalant. Then it gets worse.

Then it gets much worse.

And by the end, it's catastrophic.

I white-knuckled my way through it, and any geo-inclined readers are advised to do the same. The educational value of this clip is incredible.

Accretionary Wedge #57: Seeing Geology Everywhere!

Evelyn is hosting AW # 57, Seeing Geology Everywhere.

I see rocks. They're everywhere, in everything. And most of the time, people don't even know they're rocks.

This is a topic I've brought up more times than I can count at this point. (See "Show Me Your Sidewalk," "Geology is All Around Us!" "Geology at Oregon State University," "AW #52: Geology Dream Course," "The Geo Biz," "We Dohn' Need No Steenkin' Rocks," "98 102 97 88" "Cycles Without End (AW #30)," and, in particular, "A Worldview That Resonates With Me," as a few selected examples.) The question I keep getting stuck on is, "What can I say that I haven't said before?"

The only thing I can think of is to phrase it as a challenge: I defy you to find *anything* in your environment that isn't directly or immediately indirectly (by which I mean only one or two steps of remove) dependent upon, or shaped by, geological resources and processes. The thing is, there really isn't anything that doesn't fit that description. The landscape you live in (or vacation in, for that matter), however modified by human engineering, was created in its basic outlines by water, the solid earth, climate and biological interactions. The computer you're reading this on is a creation of a wide variety of minerals and petrochemicals, painstakingly fabricated, doped with extraordinary precision, and despite its incredible complexity, assembled and sold at a price people can readily afford. Almost everything in your home was delivered by (mainly) steel vehicles propelled by hydrocarbon combustion. It's a rare meal indeed, at least in the developed world, that doesn't have a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of table salt, NaCl, or halite. For the sodium sensitive, you can substitute in a certain amount of KCl, or sylvite. If you get heartburn after a hearty meal, you can take an antacid made of fine-grained calcite, CaCO3, or gibbsite, aluminum hydroxide, Al(OH)3, to neutralize the acid. Then you can relax with a glossy magazine or coffee table book. The reason the pages are glossy is that a mixture of clay minerals has been rolled and compressed into the paper; the tiny clay flakes are flattened parallel to each other, giving the paper the appearance of reflectivity. It's the man-made equivalent of phyllite.

Geology's ubiquity and importance in terms of materials and energy make it among the most economically important of the sciences. The fact that so few people seem to get that is frustrating. I am by no means arguing that everyone should be an expert in geology, but I would argue that nearly everyone would benefit by having a good high school-level, year-long, geology course. What rightly or wrongly is perceived as a recent spate of billion-dollar disasters have been in large part geologically mediated. It doesn't require a college degree to be able to pick out settings that are more or less susceptible to flooding, storm surges, wind damage, landslides, slumps, debris flows/lahars, tsunamis, earthquake damage and so on. In many cases, a minimum of education, rather than waiting for the intonations of experts, could help an intelligent consumer make better choices about places that are more or less safe to live.

And I haven't even touched (here) on the awe and amazement I feel when, with the help of both what I know, and research performed by others, I stand on an outcrop, and gaze clearly into the past, through an abyss that might measure billions of years in duration. I have felt nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, that makes me feel one with creation, in the way that experience does.

So, yes. I see rocks. They're everywhere. Most people don't even know they're rocks. And from my perspective, that's an enormous loss on their part.

Geo 365: April 13, Day 103: PNW Palms in the Breakers

Out toward the open end of Devil's Churn, so-called "sea palms" have evolved to thrive in one of  the most violent environments on earth: the breaker zone of the PNW's rocky coasts. Below the sea palms, against the right edge of the photo, a knobby cluster of mussels blends in well against the basaltic breccia bedrock.  Toward the bottom, barnacles and encrusting algae are other organisms that can cope with this rugged, battered habitat. As hostile as it looks from our perspective, there are many factors that make this an appealing spot for critters that can handle it: highly oxygenated water, high nutrient levels from upwelling, and a relative paucity of predators. Starfish are the main carnivorous predator, sea urchins the main browser. This zone is a bit too high- too often above the tide level- for either to be able to get to the area.

Photo unmodified. September 21, 2010. FlashEarth Location.