With the Exhumation of the Rockies, nature, in the form of wind and water, worked its way down toward this coal. By the middle nineteen-seventies, nature had removed a mile of overburden, and had only sixty feet to go. At that point, something called the Marion 8200, an eight-millionpound landship also known as a walking dragline, took over the job. The machine was so big it had to be assembled on the site-a procedure that required fourteen months. Now working within a mile or two of the generating plant, it could swing its four-chord deep-section boom and touch any spot in six acres, its bucket biting, typically, a hundred tons of rock, and dumping it to one side. The zakelijke energie 8200 had dug a box canyon, its walls of solid coal about thirty feet thick. The inside of the machine was painted Navy gray, and had non-skid deck surfaces, thick steel bulkheads, handrails, and oval doors that looked watertight. They led from compartment to compartment, and eventually into the air-conditioned sanctum of Centralized Power Control, where, lined up in ranks, were electric motors. The foremost irony of this machine was that it was far too large and powerful to operate on diesel engines. Although the chassis was nine stories high, it could not begin to contain enough diesels to make the machine work. Only electric motors are compact enough. Out the back of the machine, like the tail of a four-thousand-ton rat, ran a huge black cable, through zakelijke energie vergelijken gully and gulch, over hill and draw, to the generating plant-whose No. i customer was the big machine. Once every couple of hours, the 8200 walked-raised itself up on its pontoonlike shoes and awkwardly lurched backward seven feet, so traumatically compressing the dirt it landed on that smoke squirted out the sides and the ground became instant slate. This machine-with its crowned splines, its precise driveline mating, its shop-lapped helical gears, its ball-swivel mounting of the boompoint sheaves, its anti-tightline devices and walking-shoe position indicators-had unsurprisingly attracted the attention of Russian engineers, who came in a large committee to see Jim Bridger, because they were about to build twenty-five similar generating stations in one relatively concentrated area of Siberia, which, they confided, closely resembled Sweetwater County, Wyoming.
On the way up to the lookoff, we had stopped at a spring, where I buried my face in watercress and simultaneously drank and ate. Love said that F. V. Hayden, the first reconnaissance geologist in Wyoming Territory, also happened to be a medical doctor, and he went around dropping watercress in springs and streams to prevent scurvy from becoming the manifest destiny of emigrants. Hayden, who taught at the University of Pennsylvania, led one of the several groups that in i879 combined to become the United States Geological Survey. When he came into the country in the late eighteenfifties, he was so galvanized by seeing the composition of the earth in clear unvegetated view that he regularly went off on his own, moved hurriedly from zakelijke energie vergelijken outcrop to outcrop, and filled canvas bags with samples. This puzzled the Sioux. Wondering what he could be collecting, they watched him, discussed him, and finally attacked him. Seizing his canvas bags, they shook out the contents. Rocks fell on the ground. In that instant, Professor Hayden was accorded the special status that all benevolent people reserve for the mentally disadvantaged. In their own words, the Sioux named him He Who Picks Up Rocks Running, and to all hostilities thereafter Hayden remained immune. I remarked at the spring that Love was having nothing to drink. He said, “If I drink, I’ll be thirsty all afternoon.” And now, on the high outcrop, turning again from the Eocene volcanic Absarokas to the Wind River Range (the supreme expression in Wyoming of the Laramide Orogeny) and on to the newly risen Tetons (by far the youngest range in the Rockies), I mentioned the belief of some zakelijke energie geologists that of all places in the world the Rocky Mountains will be the last to be deciphered in terms of the theory of plate tectonics. “I don’t think I would necessarily agree,” Love said. “I think it is one of the more difficult ones, yes. I’ve thought a lot about it. At this stage, I’m uncomfortable with a direct tie-in. Until we have a detailed chronology of all the mountains, how can we plug them into a megapicture of plate tectonics? I don’t want to give a premature birth to anything.” Plate-tectonic theorists pondering the Rockies have been more than a little inconvenienced by the great distances that separate the mountains from the nearest plate boundaries, where mountains theoretically are built. The question to which all other questions lead is, What could have hit the continent with force enough to drive the overthrust and cause the foreland mountains to rise?
At his first G.S.A. meeting, a couple of years earlier in New York, about the only person he knew was Samuel H. Knight, his distinguished tutor from the University of Wyoming. Gradually, the faces and forms of strangers attached themselves to names long familiar to him on scientific papers and the spines of books. His personal pantheon came alive around him, and he was pleased to discover how easily approachable they were. When he tells of the experience-now that he is the Grand Old Man of Rocky Mountain Geology-he could be describing himself: “They put their pants on one leg at a time. They were very human individuals. They encouraged young people to speak out.” As they discussed one another’s papers, he relished their candor, their style of disagreement. A paleontologist named Asa Mathews got up and presented what he believed was the discovery that the world’s first bird had come into existence in Permian time-roughly a hundred million years earlier than zakelijke energie vergelijken Archaeopteryx, the incumbent first bird. Mathews detailed some remarkable trace fossils in Permian rock in Utah, which sequentially recorded, he said, a bird as it ran along the ground, its wingtips awkwardly scraping until, finally, it took off Walter Granger arose before the assembly to greet this unusual news. He said, “Professor Mathews has undoubtedly demonstrated that the first bird flew over that pait of Utah, but he has not demonstrated that it landed.” David Griggs, who was not much older than Love, gave a superb demonstration of some fresh ideas about mountain building. Afterward, Bailey Willis, whom Love describes as “one of the grandfathers of structural geology in the world,” anointed Griggs with praise. The great Andrew Lawson, who named the San Andreas Fault, was on his feet next, and zakelijke energie virtually conferred upon Griggs an honorary degree by saying, “For the first and only time in my life, I agree with Bailey Willis.” In another context, a young geologist challenged Walter Granger, saying, “Dr. Granger, are you sure you’re right?” Granger answered, without a flicker of hesitation, “Young man, I will consider myself a great success in life if I prove to be right fifty per cent of the time.”
The ranch steadings were more than a dozen buildings facing south, and most of them were secondhand. When a stage route that ran through the ranch was abandoned, in i905, John Love went down the line shopping for moribund towns. He bought Old Muskrat-including the hotel, the post office, Joe Lacey’s Muskrat Saloon-and moved the whole of it eighteen miles. He bought Golden Lake and moved it thirty-three. He arranged the buildings in a rough semicircle that embraced a corral so large and solidly constructed that other ranchers travelled long zakelijke energie distances to use it. Joe Lacey’s place became the hay house, the hotel became in part a saddlery and cookhouse, and the other buildings, many of them connected, became all or parts of the blacksmith shop, the chicken hatchery, the ice shed, the buggy shed, the sod cellar, and the bunkhouse-social center for all the workingmen from a great many miles around. There was a granary made of gigantic cottonwood logs from the banks of the Wind River, thirty miles away. There were wool-sack towers, and a wooden windmill over a hand-dug well. The big house itself was a widespread log collage of old town parts and original construction. It had wings attached to wings. In the windows were air bubbles in distorted glass. For its twenty tiers of logs, John had journeyed a hundred miles to the lodgepole-pine groves of the Wind River Range, returning with ten logs at a time, each round trip requiring two weeks. He collected zakelijke energie vergelijken a hundred and fifty logs. There were no toilets, of course, and the family had to walk a hundred feet on a sometimes gumbo-slick path to a four-hole structure built by a ranch hand, with decorative panelling that matched the bookcases in the house. The cabinetmaker was Peggy Dougherty, the stagecoach driver who had first brought Miss Wa xham through Crooks Gap and into the Wind River country. The family grew weary of carrying water into the house from the well under the windmill. And so, as she would write in later years:
After experiments using an earth auger and sand point, John triumphantly installed a pitcher pump in the kitchen, a sink, and drain pipe to a barrel, buried in the ground at some distance from the house. This was the best, the first, and at that time the only water system in an area the size of Rhode Island.
In the evenings, kerosene lamps threw subdued yellow light. Framed needlework
“They didn’t all pooch out at once. They moved in fits and starts over a span of time. The Owl Creeks rose in the early Eocene, as did the Uintas. The Medicine Bows, which are farther east, came up before the Uintas. They are all separate mountains with the same general type of origin. They are cohesive in the way that a family is cohesive. They are part of tl1e same event.” The event is known in geology as the Laramide Orogeny. Alternatively it is called the Laramide Revolution. Mountains always come down, of course, as they are coming up. In the contest between erosion and orogeny, erosion never loses. For a relatively zakelijke energie vergelijken short time, though, the mountains prevail by rising faster than they are destroyed. In what Love has called “some of the greatest localized vertical displacement known anywhere in the world,” the Wind Rivers rose sixty thousand feet with respect to the rock around them, the Uintas fifty thousand, others as much. Frequent rains and many streams helped melt them away. West of Wyoming, in the Eocene, there were no Coast Ranges, no Sierra Nevada. Warm winds off the Pacific brought rains to the Rockies, and a climate similar to the present climate of Florida. In the early Eocene, when the ranges in general looked much as they do today, the mountain building ceased. In the tectonic quiet, erosion of course continued, and the broad downwarps among the ranges continued to fill. Then came a footnote to the revolution. “In latest early Eocene, fifty-two million years ago, all hell broke zakelijke energie loose again,” Love said. From thousands of fissures in northwest Wyoming, lava poured forth by the cubic mile. Torn apart by weather and rearranged by streams, it has since been etched out as the Absaroka Range. “After that, everything went blah,” he went on. “In the Oligocene, the tectonic activity was totally dead, and it stayed dead at least until the early Miocene. Thirty million years. Then, in the late Miocene, all hell broke loose again. And all hell has been breaking loose time and again for the last ten million years. This is not a static science.”
Always, going down, the wheels are rough-locked by a chain so that they slip along instead of turning. . . . A freight team went over the side a little while ago about Thanksgiving time. The load was partly supplies for Thanksgiving dinner, turkeys, oysters, fruit, etc. The driver called to the team behind for help. When it came, he was calmly seated on a stump peeling an orange while the wagon and debris were scattered below.
Oil would be discovered under Lost Soldier in i916. It would yield the highest recovery per acre of any oil field that has ever been discovered in the Rocky Mountains. From level to level in a drill hole there-a hole about a mile deep-oil could be found in an amazing spectrum of host rocks: in the Cambrian Flathead sandstone, in the Mississippian Madison limestone, in the Tensleep sands of Pennsylvanian time. Oil was in kantoor per uur hilversum the Chugwater (red sands of the Triassic), and in the Morrison, Sundance, Nugget (celebrated formations of the Jurassic), and, of course, in the Cretaceous Frontier. A well at Lost Soldier was like grafted ornamental citrus-oranges, lemons, tangerines, grapefruit, all on a single tree. The discoverer of the oil-bearing structure was a young geologist from Princeton University, who not only found the structure but also helped to place the term “sheepherder anticline” in the geologic lexicon. A sheepherder anticline is one that is particularly obvious, one that could be mapped by a Princeton geologist dressed as a shepherd and moving around with a flock of sheep-which is how he avoided attention as he studied the rock of Lost Soldier.
We rattled into the place at last, and were glad to get in to the fire to warm ourselves while the driver kantoor per uur rotterdam changed· the load from one coach to another. With every change of drivers the coach is changed, making each man responsible for repairs on his own coach. The Kirks keep Lost Soldier. Mrs. Kirk is a short stocky figureless woman with untidy hair. She furnished me with an old soldier’s overcoat to wear during the night to come ….B efore long, we were started again, with Peggy Dougherty for driver. He is tall and grizzled. They say that when he goes to dances they make him take the spike out of the, bottom of his wooden leg. There were four horses now-“a wicked little team”-and immediately they kicked over the traces, tried to run away, became tangled like sled dogs twisting in harness, and set Peggy Dougherty to swearing.
Ye gods, how he could swear.
We went through a ten-metre roadcut of massive sandstone so rich in iron it had rusted the road. Being tough by comparison with its neighboring rock, it stood high and formed a hill, and hence it had been blasted to convenience the interstate. “That is one hell of a sandstone,” Anita said with enthusiasm, seeing in it something I could not discern. We crossed a river. “That was the well-known Cuyahoga,” she said. “If you swim in it, you dissolve.” The Cuyahoga was flowing south. It rises in northeasternmost Ohio, runs south into Akron, then reverses its direction, swinging north through Cleveland and into Lake Erie. Morewarningsignsflashedby. “STAY AWAKE! STAY ALIVE!” Anita said, ‘Tm trying. I’m trying.” Now spanning the road was an Italianate steel-arch bridge, standing on Berea sandstone, a fragment of the Berea Delta, of early Mississippian age, which had extended its bird-foot shape far into Ohio Bay. We stopped, and picked quartz pebbles the size of golf balls out of a conglomerate there. “These would have been just offshore,” she said. “You can take the pebbles out of the rock with your hands because it was never hated up like the co-working space hilversum conglomerate at the Delaware Water Gap. This was never buried much. It is not well lithified. It hasn’t experienced enough heat to get tough.” A few miles west, we crossed the Cuyahoga River again, and looked down some distance from the interstate bridge into the Cuyahoga’s extensively reamed-out valley, with its modest, meandering stream. “It’s an underfit stream,” said Anita. “A little half-ass stream in a valley made wide by glacier ice. The Cuyahoga’s valley was steepened and entrenched, like Yosemite.” “You are comparing the Cuyahoga Valley with Yosemite?” “Technically.” We left the interstate and followed the valley into Cleveland.
The Cuyahoga River had suffered a bad press. When it caught fire some years before, it attracted national attention. Its percentage of water had become low relative to its content of hydrogen in various combinations with carbon. The co-working space rotterdam river burned so fiercely that two railroad bridges were nearly destroyed. There was no mention in the papers of the good things the river had done. It had made parks. It had been there before the glacier ice and had cut down five hundred feet through Mississippian formations into Senecan and Chautauquan time-stages of the late Devonian. It cut deep ravines, which the ice later broadened into canyons. The ice augered through the V-shaped valley and turned it into a U.
The car hit an erosional vacuity that almost threw it off the road. Geology versus the State of Pennsylvania. Geology wins. In eastern weather, the life expectancy of an interstate is twenty years. Mile after mile, I-80 had been heaved, split, dissolved, and cratered. A fair amount of limestone is incorporated in the road surface in Pennsylvania. Limestone is soluble in distilled water, let alone in acid rain. “Acid rains eat the surface, then water goes in and freezes, thaws, freezes again, and co-working space dordrecht fractures the hell out of the road,” Anita said, easing down toward minimum speed. “That, of course, is exactly how water works on bedrock. But an interstate can’t be compared to bedrock. An interstate has no soil protecting it. And it’s mostly carbonate. It’s not very resistant stuff.” We were sixty miles into Pennsylvania and had descended from the Pocono Plateau, generally running backward through time and down through the detritus of two great ranges of mountains. Now the country was familiar-valley, ridge, valley, ridge. We were again in the deformed Appalachians. While the Delaware Water Gap had been a part of the main trunk of the foldbelt, this was an offshoot that curled around the western co-working space amsterdam Poconos-a broad cul-de-sac whose long ropy ridges ended like fingers, gesturing in the direction of New York State. It was rhythmic terrain, predictable and beautiful, the quartzite ridges and carbonate valleys of the folded-and-faulted mountains, trending southwest, while the interstate negotiated with them for its passage toward Chicago. Looked at in continental scale on a physiographic map or a geologic map-on almost any map that doesn’t obscure the countiy with exaggerated human improvements-the sinuosity of the deformed Appalachians is as consistent as the bendings of a moving serpent.
He called it the Epoque Glaciaire. By any name, at home or abroad, it did not overwhelm his colleagues. He was attacked far more than defended. Von Buch literally threw up his hands, and not without the perspectives of the future partly on his side, for Agassiz-like the “plate-tectonics boys,” as seen by Anita Harrishad not known where to stop. His remarks had gone beyond his reconstruction from observable phenomena of a cover of ice across the whole of northern Europe: he had concluded that the newborn Alps, rising under the ice, had caused it to break up. Agassiz’s friend and mentor Alexander von Humboldt, whose co-working space hilversum name reposes in the western Americas in the Humboldt Current, the Humboldt River, and the Humboldt Range, strongly urged Agassiz to go back to cataloguing fossil fishes, the work for which Agassiz was internationally known and for which the Geological Society of London had awarded him the Wollaston Medal. “You spread your intellect over too many subjects at once,” he wrote to Agassiz. “I think that you should concentrate . . . on fossil fishes. In so doing, you will render a greater service to positive geology than by these general considerations (a little icy withal) on the revolutions of the primitive world. . . . You will co-working space rotterdam say that this is making you the
Book 2: In Suspect Terrain slave of others; perfectly true, but such is the pleasing position of affairs here below. Have I not been driven for thirty-three years to busy myself with that tiresome America . . . ? Your ice frightens me.” Agassiz’s response was to address himself more intensively than ever to glaciers-glaciers of the present and the past. “Since I saw the glaciers I am quite of a snowy humor, and will have the whole surface of the earth covered with ice, and the whole prior creation dead by cold,” he wrote in English to an English geologist. “In fact I am quite satisfied that ice must be taken in every complete explanation of the last changes which occurred at the surface of Europe.” He found moraines on tl1e plains of France. He found Swedish boulders in Germany. In Grindelwald, a stranger heard his name and, seeing his boyish appearance, asked if he was the son of the great and famous professor.
“Evidence would be in the rest of the conglomerate, little bits of limestone debris. Evidence would be in the seismic line.” “But that evidence could be …Y ou could imbricate the stuff that’s coming off North America.” “Yes. Yes, you can.” “So I don’t think that’s definitive.” ‘Tm not saying it is. I’m just saying here’s another possibility. And I’m going to stick to that for the time being, as well as the Chain Lakes ophiolite.” It doesn’t matter that you don’t understand them. Even they are not sure if they are making sense. Their purpose is trying to. Everyone has crowded in. The science selects these people-with conference room hilversum their jeans and boots and scuffed leather field cases and hats of railroad engineers. To them, just being out here is in no small measure what it’s all about. “The three key things in this science are travel, travel, and travel,” one says. “Geology is legitimized tourism.” When geologists convene at an outcrop, they see their own specialties first, and sometimes last, in the rock. People listen closely for techniques applicable to areas they work in elsewhere. If someone is a specialist in little bubbles that affect cleavage planes, others will tum to the specialist for comment when cleavage is of interest in the rock. The conversation runs in links from specialty to specialty, from minutia to minutia-attempting to establish new agreement, to identify problems not under current research. From time to time, details compose. The picture vastly conference room rotterdam widens. “Aren’t we in North America?” “You are in North America. Yes.” “And you are in Europe.” ”That’s one possibility. Yes.” “You are standing across the ocean.” “No. I’m not standing across the ocean. I’m transplanted here. Is the Atlantic between me and you? No.” “You are allochthonous.” “You’re damned right I am.” “You are rootless.” “Not to mention recumbent.” “Only after hours.” “There may be another suture.” “There may be another suture, but this is the only one we’ve got.” “No, no, you’ve got another one, which goes up through Quebec.” “No, that’s not in place. The Canadian seismic line proves it.