Big Ben Eruption Update 2017-02-27

Mawson Peak's summit crater glows orange in this false-color infrared image (bands 7-6-5) taken February 27, 2017.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY) using data from USGS LANDSAT 8 (public domain).
Mawson Peak’s summit crater glows orange in this false-color infrared image (bands 7-6-5) taken February 27, 2017. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY) using data from USGS LANDSAT 8 (public domain).

It has been three weeks since I reported on an active eruption on Heard Island seen by Landsat 8. Since then, the presence of lava at or near the surface in the summit crater of Mawson Peak has continued, and a thermal anomaly is present both in the February 27 Landsat 8 image shown above and in February 20 imagery. It is difficult to discern in the true-color imagery from February 27 whether there are any new lava/debris flows present. The two MODIS instruments (one on Aqua, one on Terra) have not picked up any thermal anomalies since early February.

Unfortunately, one of the best tools I’ve had at my disposal for keeping an eye on Mawson Peak is no longer available: NASA/USGS satellite EO-1 was decomissioned last week. EO-1 provided 10 m/pixel true-color imagery, which is significantly higher resolution than 15 m/pixel of Landsat. Archival data for both satellites remains available, but no new EO-1 data will be taken. New data from Landsat 8 typically comes in a few times each month (every 7-16 days), and I’ll be keeping an eye on it.

Mawson Peak in true color, February 27, 2017.  Image processing: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY) using USGS Landsat 8 data (public domain).
Mawson Peak in true color, February 27, 2017. Image processing: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY) using USGS Landsat 8 data (public domain).

Big Ben Eruption, 2017-02-04

Lava and debris flows radiate away from Mawson Peak on Heard Island.   February 4, 2017.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY) using data from Landsat 8 OLI (NASA/USGS; public domain).
Lava and debris flows radiate away from Mawson Peak on Heard Island. February 4, 2017. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY) using data from Landsat 8 OLI (NASA/USGS; public domain).

On February 4th, Landsat 8 captured a clear view of the summit of Big Ben volcano, at Heard Island. Heard Island is a very cloudy location, so clear views are uncommon (I don’t have numbers, but would estimate <20%). However, the February 4th images are even more spectacular: they capture an ongoing volcanic eruption.

Observations
In the sharpened true-color image (above), four or five different lava/rock/debris flows are visible emanating from the summit. Using a false-color infrared image (below), two hot regions are apparent (red/orange/yellow), and are separated by about 250 meters. The longest of the flows stretches nearly 2 km, and drops from an elevation of roughly 2740 m to 1480 m (using 2002 Radarsat elevation data with 20 m contours). All three of the large flows to the west or southwest of the summit drop below 2000 m elevation at the toe.

False-color infrared imagery of Mawson Peak, Heard Island.  Two vents are visible in red/orange/yellow, separated by 250 meters. Data source: Landsat 8 OLI/TIRS bands 7-6-5.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY), data from NASA/USGS (public domain).
False-color infrared imagery of Mawson Peak, Heard Island. Two vents are visible in red/orange/yellow, separated by 250 meters. Data source: Landsat 8 OLI/TIRS bands 7-6-5. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY), data from NASA/USGS (public domain).

Interpretation
In the sharpened true-color imagery, I have identified five rock and debris flows originating at the summit, as well as one potential avalanche. Annotation of these observations is found on the pictures below.

Annotation of lava/rock/debris flows from Mawson Peak, Heard Island, February 4, 2017.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).
Annotation of lava/rock/debris flows from Mawson Peak, Heard Island, February 4, 2017. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).

The streaky, varying lightness of the flow areas, presence of snow and ice, and steep terrain lead me to believe that what is showing up here are mixed snow/rock/lava debris flows, rather than pure lava flows. A mix of rocky debris and snow would not be out of line for a supraglacial eruption on a steep mountain. The longest flow drops nearly 1300 m along its 2000 m horizontal path according to the 2002 Radarsat elevations. I’ll be the first to admit that I am distrustful of the specifics of the Radarsat contours due to the rapidly changing landscape and an intervening 15 years, but I think that it manges to get the general picture right.

Southwestern Heard Island is a high-precipitation area, so rocks exposed on the surface of the glaciers are likely quite fresh. It probably won’t be long before most of the deposits are covered in snow again.

Speaking of snow, it looks as though there is a faint outline of an avalanche scarp/deposit on the northeast side of the summit, which I annotated below in green.

Annotation of avalanche scarp and deposit, Mawson Peak, Heard Island, February 4, 2017.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY)
Annotation of avalanche scarp and deposit, Mawson Peak, Heard Island, February 4, 2017. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY)

The two hot spots provide an interesting challenge for interpretation. Two scenarios come to mind quickly: there are two vents from which lava is issuing, or there is a lava tunnel from a summit crater down to a flow front or breakout. Analyzing the Landsat 8 OLI/TIRS infrared imagery from January 26th (most recent previous high-resolution image), only one hot spot is present—in the same place as the eastern hot spot in the February 4th infrared image. For spatial correlation without doing the whole image processing and GIS thing, use the forked flow to the south-southeast of the hotspot as a reference.

False-color infrared image of Mawson Peak, January 26, 2017.  Landsat 8 OLI/TIRS bands 7-6-5.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY) using NASA/USGS data (public domain).
False-color infrared image of Mawson Peak, January 26, 2017. Landsat 8 OLI/TIRS bands 7-6-5. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY) using NASA/USGS data (public domain).

Due to a different time of day for imaging, there are significant shadows in the January image on the southwest side of ridges. It’s tricky to figure out what is going on for the flows (even in visible imagery), but the hot spot from January 26th is right on top of the eastern hot spot from February 4th.

Another thing which becomes apparent in the January image is the topography at the summit. The clouds form a blanket at an atmospheric boundary (and roughly-constant elevation), which is conveniently just below the elevation of the summit. A roughly circular hole in the clouds is present, and a conical mountain summit pokes through with the hot spot right in the center. That suggests that the second hot spot seen in the February 4th image is at a lower elevation—a possible flow front or breakout.

Excitement in the Mundane
Finding this eruption was a bit of a surprise to me: the low-resolution preview image for the Landsat data on EarthExplorer was so coarse that there wasn’t anything striking or out of the ordinary visible at the summit. Clouds covered most of the rest of the island. However, when I opened up the full-resolution color images (30 m/pixel), it was immediately evident that this was a special day. Sharpening the true-color bands with the high-resolution panchromatic band using QGIS made it pop all the more!

Upon seeing both the lava/debris flows and the thermal anomaly, I checked the MODIS volcanism (MODVOLC) site to see if the Terra and Aqua MODIS instruments had picked up thermal anomalies as well over the preceding week. They had, as shown below. Both satellites had recorded thermal anomalies at Heard on February 2nd and 3rd.

MODIS thermal events at Heard Island, in the week preceding February 6, 2017.  Image credit: MODVOLC.
MODIS thermal events at Heard Island, in the week preceding February 6, 2017. Image credit: MODVOLC.

Update:: Follow-up from February 27, 2017.

Cloud-Free Heard Island

Composite, cloud-free satellite imagery of Heard Island, being produced in QGIS.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY), using USGS (Landsat 8, EO-1) data (public domain).
Composite, cloud-free satellite imagery of Heard Island, being produced in QGIS. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY), using USGS (Landsat 8, EO-1) data (public domain).

Heard Island is a pretty cloudy place most of the time. However, there are occasional times when the weather clears, particularly on the southeastern (leeward) side of the island. On rare occasions, the northwest and southwest sides of the island come out from the clouds as a satellite passes over.

For the past two years, I have been watching Heard Island using true-color imagery from four satellites: Terra, Aqua, Landsat 8, and EO-1. I have posted previously about satellite imagery from these instruments. Although every image of the Island I have seen has clouds in it covering a portion of the island, I was curious whether or not I had accumulated clear imagery of the entirety of Heard Island.

In part, this question was spurred by a follower on Twitter asking about eruptive activity at Heard. I had to admit I didn’t really know whether the activity was low-level and continuous (like Kilauea) or more intermittent. Given that our knowledge of its eruptive activity is primarily from satellite observations, do the satellite “thermal anomalies” correspond to short eruptive events, or simply a cloud-free view of the volcano?

For high-resolution imagery of Heard Island, the datasets of interest are from EO-1 ALI, and Landsat 8 OLI. The two MODIS instruments (one on Aqua, one on Terra) are moderate-resolution, and while 250-m resolution is sufficient for some purposes, this one needs more. Looking through the archives, I was able to find EO-1 ALI data primarily for Mawson Peak and points southeast, and Landsat 8 OLI covered much of the island, particularly the northwest.

Not only is having cloud-free, high-resolution data important for me, but I want the data to be recent. There has been a retreat of up to 5.5 km for some of the glaciers since 1947, and the Google Maps imagery of that area (Stephenson Lagoon) is horribly outdated. Fortunately, I found most of the island covered in large swaths with images from 2014 onward, and mostly 2016. There was even good imagery from when I was on Heard Island! Our ship, the Braveheart, is visible as a few white pixels in Atlas Roads (just north of Atlas Cove), slightly closer to the Azorella Peninsula than to the Laurens Peninsula. The tents and campsite are too small and darkly colored to be visible on this image.

Braveheart in Atlas Roads and the campsite (non-contrasting) at Atlas Cove, Heard Island.  Satellite image pixels are 15 m across, and the Azorella Peninsula isthmus (along Campsite label) is 1 km wide.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY), using USGS (Landsat 8 OLI) data (public domain).
Braveheart in Atlas Roads and the campsite (non-contrasting) at Atlas Cove, Heard Island. Satellite image pixels are 15 m across, and the Azorella Peninsula isthmus (along Campsite label) is 1 km wide. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY), using USGS (Landsat 8 OLI) data (public domain).

A small portion of the island between Atlas Cove and Mawson Peak was the most difficult to find. With the topography of the island, the steady stream of wind, and the humid air, the 2.5 km by 2.5 km region was cloudy pretty much all the time. Eventually, using the EO-1 ALI instrument and going back to early 2010, I found a reasonably clear image of it.

Once I had the images (after combining true-color and panchromatic brightness data in QGIS), I needed to stitch them together. Thanks to the wonderful QGIS training manual, I was able to create vector (polygon) layers which corresponded to the clear region of each image (plus some surrounding ocean). At this point the troublesome mostly-cloudy spot became evident, and the search was on for imagery to fill the void.

Creating polygons for clipping the satellite imagery using QGIS.  Four polygons are shown here, including the small polygon of much cloudiness.  A fifth dataset was subsequently incorporated.
Creating polygons for clipping the satellite imagery using QGIS. Four polygons are shown here, including the small polygon of much cloudiness. A fifth dataset was subsequently incorporated.

Finally, I tried to put them together. This turned out to be more trouble than it was worth for my purposes, having only five images. Several of the images had differing resolutions (10 m/pixel for EO-1 ALI, 15 m/pixel for Landsat 8 OLI). Additionally, since I was handling these in their raw format, color balances/exposures were not consistent across images. I decided it best, then, to leave them separate, and sent them around to the Heard Island Expedition team.

Soon I had an email from the expedition leader: he was very interested in the imagery, but it wasn’t opening in Google Earth. Some searching later, I found that Google Earth works best with a certain map projection (EPSG:4326), and when exporting the GeoTIFF, I needed to select “rendered image” rather than “raw data”. I re-exported the images, zipped them up, and tested it out on another computer: success! This Google Earth friendly imagery is now available here (17 MB zip).

One continuation of this project would be to keep looking through the documentation on GeoTiffs to find out how to make the rendered images use a transparent, not white, border where there is no data. That would likely let me create a virtual raster catalog to load all of them in one go, rather than having to load them separately.

Argo Buoy Update

Argo buoy tracks from buoys deployed on the Heard Island Expedition.  Red dots indicate most recent position.  The first set of buoys were deployed between Cape Town, South Africa, and Heard Island (center).  The color scheme has been reused for the second set of buoys, deployed between Heard Island and Fremantle, Western Australia.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).
Argo buoy tracks from buoys deployed on the Heard Island Expedition. Red dots indicate most recent position. The first set of buoys were deployed between Cape Town, South Africa, and Heard Island (center). The color scheme has been reused for the second set of buoys, deployed between Heard Island and Fremantle, Western Australia. Image credit: Bill Mitchell, using OpenStreetMap continents (CC-BY).

About ten months ago, the Heard Island Expedition team launched the first of our eleven Argo buoys into the Indian Ocean. The buoys are equipped with conductivity-temperature-depth (CTD) instruments, and spend most of their time drifting about 1 km beneath the ocean surface. Every ten days, they dive to 2 km, then record CTD data as they ascend to the surface. At the surface, they relay the data via satellite over the course of a day before returning to 1 km depth. With a large network of these buoys, scientists can gather important data on currents under the ocean, as well as changes in temperature and salinity profiles.

Over time, ocean currents move the buoys. None of our eleven buoys are where they started, and some have moved far away from where they entered the ocean. We deployed two batches of buoys: six before reaching Heard Island from Cape Town, and five more on our voyage on to Fremantle/Perth.

I have obtained the latest position data (as of Jan 14, 2017) for the eleven buoys. Their tracks are shown in the figure at the top of this post. Tracks are colored by buoy, reusing the colors for the first and second batch. Some of the buoys have moved more than 1500 km as the albatross flies, with path lengths approaching 3000 km!

The CTD data are also interesting. For instance, here are the temperature/depth and salinity/depth profiles measured by buoy 5902454 (dark blue path on second leg of map above).

Temperature/depth profiles over time for buoy 5902454.  Image credit: Coriolis Data Centre.
Temperature/depth profiles over time for buoy 5902454. Image credit: Coriolis Data Centre.
Salinity/depth profiles over time for buoy 5902454.  Image credit: Coriolis Data Centre.
Salinity/depth profiles over time for buoy 5902454. Image credit: Coriolis Data Centre.

Around December 1, buoy 5902454 encountered a different water mass with colder, saltier water throughout much of the 2 km water column.

Generally for these buoys, the surface water temperatures reflect the seasonal variations (warmer in Austral summer, colder in winter), while the deep water shows less variation—but sometimes there are shifts between different water masses.

Interested in keeping up with the latest from these buoys, or checking out their CTD data? Use these links (buoy number, in order by our deployment date):
1901910
1901812
1901811
1901813
1901809
1901838

5902451
5902452
5902453
5902454
5902455

Correction An earlier version of this article referred in several places to deploying ten buoys. The correct number is eleven.

Heard Island’s Most Spectacular Outcrop

Head-on view of a block of Drygalski Formation (mixed volcanics and glacial sediments, here glacial sediments with volcanic clasts).  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).
Head-on view of a block of Drygalski Formation (mixed volcanics and glacial sediments, here glacial sediments with volcanic clasts). 53° 01.927′ S, 73° 23.704′ E. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).

Heard Island is home to a spectacular outcrop. It’s the coolest outcrop I’ve ever seen, besting the Bishop Tuff tablelands, the potholes along the St. Croix River at Taylor’s Falls, Zion Canyon, The Badlands, and various outcrops in Yellowstone and Grand Teton. Admittedly this outcrop doesn’t intrinsically have the scale of many of the others just mentioned—it’s a roughly car-sized block—but the power that went into creating it and the effect it created is truly amazing.

On its face (see above), it looks quite pedestrian: a block of lithified glacial till with clasts of vesicular basalt reaching up to grapefruit size. However, it’s important to consider it from a different perspective.

Side view of a block of Drygalski Formation.  From this view, it is much easier to see this is a ventifact (carved by the wind).  There is a pile of sand on leeward (left) side. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).
Side view of a block of Drygalski Formation. From this view, it is much easier to see this is a ventifact (carved by the wind). There is a pile of sand on leeward (left) side.
Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).

When viewed from the side, a pile of sand in on the leeward (left, east) side of the block is evident. Additionally, the basaltic clasts of the rock face seem to be protecting the softer, tan-colored glacial matrix from the sand-blasting.

Here’s a close-up from an oblique angle:

Close-up, oblique view of the outcrop face.  Here the differential weathering (resistant grey clasts, weak tan matrix) is very apparent.  Spires of matrix are left to the leeward of the clasts, and are roughly horizontal. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).
Close-up, oblique view of the outcrop face. Here the differential weathering (resistant grey clasts, weak tan matrix) is very apparent. Spires of matrix are left to the leeward of the clasts, and are roughly horizontal.
Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).

In the oblique view, the volcanic clasts making up the face of the outcrop are seen sheltering the matrix directly to the leeward from mechanical erosion. To tie all of these views together, I took a short video (embedded below).

This outcrop is located on the edge of a volcanic sand plain roughly 1.5×1.5 km. Strong westerly winds are present most of the time (9 m/s is average, measured at a site nearby).[1] In fact, the audio which accompanies the video is mostly wind noise, though there’s a little unintelligible chatter with my field partner, Carlos. Winds when the recording was made were “moderate” (for Heard Island) and from the west, exactly the kind of winds that shaped this outcrop. At the time of the recording, the winds weren’t strong enough to kick up much sand, nor were ice pellets falling from the sky, but on a gustier, stormier day, the face of this outcrop will take a beating.

Looking toward the ventifact outcrop from Windy City, Heard Island.  Although the outcrop itself is hidden behind the small reddish rise at center, this image illustrates the expanse of vegetation-free sand plain. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).
Looking toward the ventifact outcrop from Windy City, Heard Island. Although the outcrop itself is hidden behind the small reddish rise at center, this image illustrates the expanse of vegetation-free sand plain.
Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).

In my travels and geo-adventures, I’ve seen differential weathering and ventifacts (outcrops shaped by wind), but never so strikingly combined as at this outcrop on Heard Island. That’s why I can confidently say it’s the coolest outcrop I’ve seen on Heard Island or anywhere else in the world.

[1] Thost, D., Allison, I. “The climate of Heard Island” in Heard Island: Southern Ocean Sentinel, ed by K. Green and E. Woehler. Surrey Beatty & Sons, Chipping Norton 2005, p. 52-68.

The Making of the Windy City Gigapan

Looking eastward at Windy City, with a person for scale. The gigapanned portion of the outcrop is at right, but two spires of similarly eroded rock outcrop further to the north of the photographed portion. The stake coming out from the outcrop is a marker for one of our temperature/light intensity sensors. Image credit: Carlos Nascimento
Looking eastward at Windy City, with a person for scale. The gigapanned portion of the outcrop is at right, but two spires of similarly eroded rock outcrop further to the north of the photographed portion. The stake coming out from the outcrop is a marker for one of our temperature/light intensity sensors.
Image credit: Carlos Nascimento

In my previous post, I discussed the gigapan of Windy City. However, the making of that gigapan was quite the adventure in field work.

After the Azorella Peninsula gigapan, the unit was packed up and taken back aboard the Braveheart for a trip to the southeast portion of the island. Rough north winds were expected, and with no protection afforded against those winds and swells from Atlas Cove, the ship had to move. Our expedition leader and two scientists not involved in the radio operations left camp and went to ride out the storm south of Stephenson Lagoon. At that time, it had become clear that I personally would not be able to go to Stephenson Lagoon—an area which was an extremely high priority for a gigapan image. I put fresh batteries into the gigapan mount, and sent it on its way. Sadly, in the almost four hours the team had on the shores of Stephenson Lagoon, they did not have an opportunity to take a gigapan. I’ll have to go back for that one!

Upon their return to camp, I knew since they had not attempted any gigapanning that there were fresh batteries in the unit. As the end of the expedition drew near, it was time to get the gigapan done at Windy City. Mid-morning, Carlos joined me for a trip to the outcrop (about 1.4 km each way). Although we didn’t have a bright sunny day, it was dry with a temperature around 5 °C. When we reached the outcrop and everything was set up, I turned on the gigapan mount. Nothing happened. With new batteries and a limited task, I hadn’t brought the whole kit with me. We headed back to camp, arriving in time for lunch.

Several of the rechargeable batteries I had for the gigapan had been sitting on the charger and were ready to go. I tossed those into the battery holder, put it under my arm to keep warm, and headed out with Carlos once again. At the outcrop I set up the rig again. When everything was set to go, I removed the batteries from inside my jacket, and put them into their slot. I powered it on. The LCD display brightened, but displayed an error message: Button-pusher disconnected or plugged in backwards. Cycling the power on and off didn’t fix it. Everything was as it had been before when it worked. Once again, this was a problem I was unable to deal with at the outcrop.

Back in camp, Carlos looked online for a solution while I tried to see if anything was likely to have come disconnected, although our team had been very gentle with the unit. Nothing stood out. Eventually we found online that the error is commonly caused not by a disconnected or backwards button-pusher, but by a low voltage. That made a bit more sense. Out came the volt-meter, and two sets of six AA alkaline batteries were verified to be fresh. One set went into the battery holder, the other went into a storage case. Now that it was late in the afternoon, Carlos had to report for radio duty, but Adam was willing to come with me—I needed this gigapan before the light died, as there was no guarantee that I would have the weather conditions or time to get it later.

Adam and I hurried over to the outcrop, the light already beginning to fade. I set up quickly, got the batteries out from my jacket, and set up the gigapan.

Please, light, stay with us long enough to complete this shot. Please, batteries, keep up your voltage!

It was clear from the beginning that the shot would not be truly completed. Somewhere in the middle either the light would die or the batteries would. Eventually, both did at about the same time. We quickly put everything back into the packs and headed back for camp. It was getting dark, but we arrived just in time for dinner and the start of my shift at the radio desk.

Although it was too late to be of use, I asked on Twitter what some of the other cold-weather folks had done about their gigapans. By the end of my four-hour radio shift, I had responses from @rschott and @callanbentley. Evidently this is a common problem, which is fought by insulating the gigapan unit as well as possible, and using hand/toe-warmers to add a little heat.

I think it’s time to ask Gigapan to make some design adjustments to improve the cold-weather operation of the units. It wasn’t all that cold where I was gigapanning, yet I still couldn’t get 15 minutes of operation on fresh batteries at 3–5 °C.

Windy City Gigapan

Processing the Windy City gigapan.  Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).
Processing the Windy City gigapan. Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).

This is the third in a series of three posts about the gigapan images taken on Heard Island (1: Big Ben, 2: Azorella Peninsula), with more information about the Windy City gigapan.

Windy City is located about 200 meters south of Atlas Cove, in the northwest portion of Heard Island. It comes from a fin of Drygalski Formation rocks, which are a mix of glacial sediments and volcanics, and is mostly surrounded by sand and gravel plains.

Looking closely at the outcrop, there are a number of interesting things to observe. First, there are the striking roughly-horizontal marks, which are particularly evident toward the base of the outcrop. Second, the outcrop is made of massive, fine-grained jointed rocks with few vesicles. Third, there are quite a few fractures within the rock, with discolorations along many of the cracks.

All of these observations combine into a remarkable tale of how Windy City has been formed. The massive, fine-grained, and jointed appearance leads to the conclusion that we are looking at a volcanic outcrop, rather than glacial sediments. Fracturing and discoloration have been brought on by weathering from the very wet, near-freezing environment. Finally, the wind has been a huge factor! Sand, gravel, snow, and graupel (ice pellets) have all been blasted against the side of this outcrop, primarily from the west (at right). On Heard Island, a 9 m/s wind is typical, with maximum recorded gusts exceeding 50 m/s on three days during the 1948-1954 period.[1] The high winds sandblast the outcrop, leading to the horizontal striations.

Here are a few wider-angle shots for context, and with better light than I ended up with for the gigapan.

Windy City outcrop, viewed from the north.  The gigapan image covers from my right arm to roughly the center of this image.  Image credit: Carlos Nascimento
Windy City outcrop, viewed from the north. The gigapan image covers from my right arm to roughly the center of this image. Image credit: Carlos Nascimento

Looking eastward at Windy City, with a person for scale.  The gigapanned portion of the outcrop is at right, but two spires of similarly eroded rock outcrop further to the north of the photographed portion.  The stake coming out from the outcrop is a marker for one of our temperature/light intensity sensors. Image credit: Carlos Nascimento
Looking eastward at Windy City, with a person for scale. The gigapanned portion of the outcrop is at right, but two spires of similarly eroded rock outcrop further to the north of the photographed portion. The stake coming out from the outcrop is a marker for one of our temperature/light intensity sensors.
Image credit: Carlos Nascimento

I also managed a close-up shot of one of the pieces of float.

Float rock at Windy City.  The 1:1000 metric scale at right is effectively a mm scale.  Some olive/green crystals are visible, mostly 1-5 mm in their longest dimension, which are likely olivine (possibly clinopyroxene). Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).
Float rock at Windy City. The 1:1000 metric scale at right is effectively a mm scale. Some olive/green crystals are visible, mostly 1-5 mm in their longest dimension, which are likely olivine (possibly clinopyroxene).
Image credit: Bill Mitchell (CC-BY).

[1] Thost, D., Allison, I. “The climate of Heard Island” in Heard Island: Southern Ocean Sentinel, ed by K. Green and E. Woehler. Surrey Beatty & Sons, Chipping Norton 2005, p. 52-68.

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