On July 21, 2017, the Landsat 8 satellite imaged a fresh landslide on Heard Island, seen in the picture above. The slide occurred in the northeast portion of the island, on top of Compton Glacier, and I have annotated it for clarity in the image below.
This landslide is quite easy to spot because of the relatively clear conditions over Heard Island and the very high contrast between the dark, presumably-basaltic rocks and the white snow of the glaciers. Given that it is presently austral winter and Heard Island is located south of the Antarctic Convergence, the rate of snow accumulation should be quite high. It will be interesting to see how long it takes to be covered by snow.
I am fairly convinced that this is a rock- or landslide rather than an eruption. The head of the flow is along the top of a steep ridge, and the infrared imagery shows no thermal anomaly in this part of the island.
What’s interesting to me is that this slide appears to have eroded some snow on top of the glacier which then caused a secondary avalanche from a north-facing slope. I’ve annotated this in the image below.
This landslide has a run-out of about 2.5 km, an elevation drop of ~750 m, and a total affected area of ~0.8 km2. Several flow tongues are evident in the close-up image, even though the satellite imagery resolution is a modest 15 m/pixel.
From this image, it looks like the rockfall mostly happened in the portion running west-to-east, then as it turned the corner to head northeast, transitioned to a surface flow. In many ways, this reminds me of the Mt. Dixon (New Zealand) rock avalanche in 2013 (coverage by Dave Petley here and here, among others). The video below is from the Mt. Dixon (NZ) rock avalanche, but is likely similar to what occurred on Heard Island.
A fly-over after the Mt. Dixon (NZ) rock avalanche provided more video of the rock avalanche scar.
I look forward to seeing more images of this slide as they come in. Heard Island is imaged roughly every 8 days by Landsat 8, which as far as I can tell is the only publicly available high-resolution imagery for the island now that EO-1 has been decommissioned.
Recently, I was out in the area again, and this time made sure to have time to take some pictures and see some of what was to be seen. Let’s start with the quarter-mile view, which is roughly equivalent to what I saw last year.
Capitol Rock has three major parts to it: an easily eroded base, a laminated sandstone middle, and a massive sandstone top. A handy turn-out from the forest service road leads right to the base of the outcrop.
The easily eroded base is made of fine, chalky, white sediment sediment, and it remains in horizontal orientation. In several places, this unit is at least superficially porous. Surprisingly, there are occasional chert clasts in the otherwise fine sediments—I’m not quite sure how those would have been deposited or formed here.
Above the basal unit is a somewhat more resistant, coarser-grained set of beds. These strata are finely bedded, and have a tendency toward spheroidal weathering. Occasionally interbedded with the spheroidal beds are 1–3 cm thick, well-cemented strata of a white or pink color [discoloration?].
The spheroidally-weathered unit also seems to have one or more channels within it.
The upper unit at Capitol Rock has more massive sandstone (see wide view above). I didn’t notice many channels in this unit, although I didn’t get very close. A butte just to the north of Capitol Rock provided a good photograph (below).
Although I have those observations, I don’t have much for interpretation of them. The depositional environment seems to be relatively low-energy (give or take the chert clasts), evidenced by the flat strata, fine grain sizes, and relatively few cross-beds. Changes in the rock types would suggest changes in the sediment sources or the depositional environment (or both). There may be post-deposition alteration effects as well, such as cementation of the spheroidally-weathering strata.
Capitol Rock is an interesting outcrop, and if you’re in the area, I’d recommend a stop. The rocks are interesting, there are US Forest Service campgrounds nearby, and the view is quite nice. These units can probably be correlated to the Slim Buttes in South Dakota (~45 miles east).
One year ago, I was on Heard Island. Over the course of the expedition I took more than 6000 photos. Although I took three images with the Gigapan (Big Ben, the Azorella Peninsula, and—my favorite—Windy City), I also took photos for stitching together manually using my own camera.
I have been slow in stitching these pictures together, but with the one-year anniversary of their production coming around, I decided it was time to finish one or two of them. This is the first, and I hope I’ll find time to finish more. Putting it together, I was amazed that this is still a relatively wide-angle compared to what I had available: 70 mm on a 70–200 mm lens. The detail came out well, as is evident at full-size. The glaciers, moraines, and hills are all more than a kilometer distant over the “nullarbor”, a broad, flat, volcanic-sand plain.
Toward the left half of the image are some penguins for scale. They look like king penguins, putting their height around 1 meter. I count at least 31 penguins in the entire image.
I think I spot some of the relatively rare basement limestones cropping out at the very left edge of the image, and their appearance is consistent with a dip of 25–35° to the south. A closer view (200 mm focal length) shows them more clearly.
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.
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:
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). 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.
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.
 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.
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 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. 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.
I also managed a close-up shot of one of the pieces of float.
 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 Azorella Peninsula is on the northern edge of the main part of Heard Island, east of the Laurens Peninsula. It forms the eastern boundary of Atlas Cove (Laurens Peninsula forms the western boundary; see map below). At the west end of the Azorella Peninsula’s southern margin is the heritage zone around the ANARE campsite, two water-tank shelters, a green “apple” shelter, and the area where our expedition made camp. That many of the camps are all in the same area is no accident: Atlas Cove is probably the best harbor on the island (though still not sheltered from a northerly swell), there is a convenient beach for boat landings, and a small step up of elevation from the lava flows of the Azorella Peninsula provides higher ground than the sometimes-inundated Nullarbor.
Getting a gigapan here was not as straightforward as I had hoped. Although there were plenty of pahoehoe flow tops, cracks where a flow had deflated and collapsed in on itself, and other lava flow features, few of them were of a scale and in a location which enabled them to be nicely gigapanned with the tripod I had. With another 3–5 m of elevation, the gigapan would be spectacular.
As it was, there were some additional features besides the lava flows which I wanted to include. For one, the landscape has significant erosional processes happening, and there are sandy areas which get washed when it rains. Even more than the rain, though, the wind creates eolian features. Many of the small rocks have a little dune in their lee, and often the Kerguelen cabbage and Azorella moss grow on the leeward side of rock barriers as well. Some of this organization is visible in the gigapan.
At the top right of the Gigapan image, and lost to the fog and overexposure of the image, is a strongly layered prominence: Corinth Head. Although I would have liked to go see this outcrop up close, our permit did not allow that—the area is a major nesting site for burrowing seabirds, and in places there are lava tubes with thin ceilings which may give way underfoot.
Where the Azorella Peninsula lava flow field meets the Nullarbor, there was a little flow which caught my eye. There, one flow clearly traveled through an older channel or tube. Weathering has removed some of the older flow, giving a cross-sectional view of the dark vesicular rock.
Some lava tubes showed obvious signs of deflation or lava tube collapse. The one seen below had eolian features nearby, and the Kerguelen cabbage and Azorella moss can be seen growing on the leeward side of the rocks. An elephant seal is also present.
Finally, here is another example of a collapsed lava tube, which shows off a cross-section of the top of the lava tube as well as some pahoehoe flow tops.
This post is the first in a series of three on the gigapans I took on Heard Island. (Part 2, Part 3)
My first gigapan on Heard Island, this one of Big Ben, came unexpectedly. As I was out hiking one afternoon, my hiking partner, Arliss, noticed that we had a clear view of the summit of Big Ben. Clearings like this can be relatively short and infrequent, so we took a few pictures immediately. We headed back to base camp just east of Atlas Cove, arriving under an hour before sunset. The mountain was still visible, so I moved quickly to set everything up and get the gigapan taken before the light faded.
From camp, Big Ben is situated to the southeast, rising up beyond the flat sandy plain of the nullarbor. In this view, the moraines and glaciers begin about 2 km from the camera. To the right of the image is the eastern slope of Mt. Drygalski. The edge of the Azorella Peninsula lava flow is in the bottom left corner.
Glacial features dominate the landscape, including a prominent moraine now covered in vegetation (lower right). Coming toward the camera are the Schmidt and Baudissin glaciers. I think this view covers from the Allison and Vahsel glaciers (at right) to the Ealey glacier (at left).
On the Nullarbor, there are a few king penguins and elephant seals, primarily to the left of center.
Big Ben itself has a range of rock types, including basanites, alkali basalts, and trachybasalts, overlying limestones and volcanic/glacial deposits.[1-4]
 Barling, J.; Goldstein, S. L. (1990) Extreme isotopic variations in Heard Island lavas and the nature of mantle reservoirs. Nature 348:59–62, doi 10.1038/348059a0.
 Barling, J.; Goldstein, S. L.; Nicholls, I. A. (1994) Geochemistry of Heard Island (Southern Indian Ocean): Characterization of an Enriched Mantle Component and Implications for Enrichment of the Sub-Indian Ocean Mantle. Journal of Petrology 35:1017–1053, doi 10.1093/petrology/35.4.1017.
 Stephenson, J.; Barling, J.; Wheller, G.; Clarke, I. “The geology and volcanic geomorphology of Heard Island”, in Heard Island: Southern Ocean Sentinel (Eds K. Green and E. Woehler) Surrey Beatey & Sons, 2006, p. 10–27.
Second, the Joides Resolution blog (the Joides Resolution is an ocean sediment coring vessel) has a series of posts (1, 2, 3) on geologic thin sections. Not surprisingly, the thin sections pictured are from rocks such as gabbros or sheeted dikes, which are expected in oceanic crust and in ophiolites (oceanic crust exposed on land). There’s a great exposure of the Coast Range Ophiolite just west of Patterson, CA, in Del Puerto Canyon, which is described in a recent blog post by Garry Hayes.
Magnetism from the Earth’s magnetic field can be retained by individual layers of rocks, at least under some circumstances. If you have a bunch of layers stacked on top of each other like pancakes, the different layers (beds) can have different magnetic directions.
As you might expect, the equipment needed to make sensitive measurements of the magnetic field are not particularly portable (and may be a topic for another post). Samples need to be collected in the field and brought back to the lab, and the sample orientation must be marked and recorded in such a way that the measured magnetic field can be related back to the magnetic field in the rock itself.*
To do that, paleomagnetists (or paleomagicians) will drill a small (1″ diameter by a few inches long) annular hole into the rock, leaving a plug of rock in the center. That will become the sample. Before it can be removed from the hole, a mark is made on the top of the plug with a brass rod. The direction of the hole is determined with a compass (or a sun compass when conditions allow), as is the angle away from vertical of the core (the hade).
When the plug is freed from the rock, the down-hole direction is marked with arrows along the mark using a permanent marker. The samples (several from each bed) are then placed into sample bags, labelled appropriately, and carefully transported back to the lab.
Are you irresistibly attracted to such a magnetic field of study? This is probably the best place to go for more information, and is freely accessible online.