Manicouagan Crater is one of the oldest impact craters on earth, and is situated in the Cote-Nord region in Quebec, Canada. It is estimated to have been created over 215 million years ago, by a 5km (3.1mi) diameter asteroid. The crater is a 100km (60mi) diameter, multi ringed structure, with the most prominent feature being a circular lake, about 70km (43.4mi) in diameter. This crater also forms the largest in an array of craters believed to be a multiple impact event.
The archaic...the arcane...and fantastic...the historic...Compiled from divers sources.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Manicouagan Crater
Manicouagan Crater is one of the oldest impact craters on earth, and is situated in the Cote-Nord region in Quebec, Canada. It is estimated to have been created over 215 million years ago, by a 5km (3.1mi) diameter asteroid. The crater is a 100km (60mi) diameter, multi ringed structure, with the most prominent feature being a circular lake, about 70km (43.4mi) in diameter. This crater also forms the largest in an array of craters believed to be a multiple impact event.
Dragon Blood Tree
The Socotra Archipelago in the Indian Ocean, off the coast of Somalia, is home to the Dragon Blood tree. The Dragon Blood tree is unusual for a number of reasons. Its trunk is bare and branches only at the top, ending in sharp spiky leaves. This unusual appearance is due to the Dragon Blood tree belonging to the monocotyledons, the same group of plants as grasses, rather than dicotyledons, which are more common amongst trees. As well as an unusual exterior, the trees also reveal an unusual interior; once pierced bright red sap oozes out. The crimson sap, called Dragon Blood, is dried and then used as a medicine or a dye. While the inhabitants of Socotra still use it as a panacea, the sap is mostly used in the West as a red varnish for violins.
Hyperion California
Hyperion is a Coast Redwood, and has the distinction of being the tallest living organism ever measured. It is 379.3 feet tall. That’s 38 stories, 100 feet taller than #5, 50 feet taller than the tallest habitable building in Washington, D. C. It grows in Redwood National Park and was not even discovered until 25 August, 2006, because all the trees around it are also redwoods, and are all gargantuan.
Like all redwoods and sequoias (very similar species), Hyperion is so enormous that it possesses its own ecosystem, with full-size pines and hemlocks growing on its branches. It is so high that if you could avoid the branches (and other trees) on the way down, BASE jumping would be no problem at all. There are no confirmed photos of it on the Internet, because scientists don’t want it disturbed or damaged by tourists. Like the Giant Sequoia, you can fit about 10 coast redwood seeds on the face of a dime.
Maelstroms
Maelstroms, hugely powerful whirlpools, have a long history in fiction as being terrible dangers to sailors. In real life there have never been any cases of large ships being sunk by maelstroms. The swirling masses of water in maelstroms, usually driven by unusually strong tides, are impressive. The Corryvreckan on the west coast of Scotland can be heard miles away as huge waves up to fifteen feet high crash back into the sea. Huge whirlpools have always attracted adventurous souls and the Corryvreckan was first swum by George Orwell’s one-legged brother-in-law. Maelstroms can be found world wide and chartering boats to them has become a popular tourist activity.
Aurora
In my opinion there is no greater natural spectacle than the Aurorae. I first saw them while standing on a frozen lake in the north of Finland. We had left our little fire hut on the shore because a very faint green glow could be seen over the treetops. As we watched, a wall of green swept silently across the sky, flecked with pink lines. When you see a picture of the aurorae you do not get the sense of motion or scale. The aurorae occur when particles, ejected on the solar wind, are channeled by the Earth’s electromagnetic field into the atmosphere. As the particles strike the atmosphere they ionize atoms which then release light. Some people report hearing a crackling sound when aurorae are particularly intense, but this has never been confirmed.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Mont Saint-Michel
Perched on a rocky islet in the midst of vast sandbanks exposed to powerful tides between Normandy and Brittany stand the 'Wonder of the West', a Gothic-style Benedictine abbey dedicated to the archangel St Michael, and the village that grew up in the shadow of its great walls. Built between the 11th and 16th centuries, the abbey is a technical and artistic tour de force, having had to adapt to the problems posed by this unique natural site.
It was at the request of the Archangel Michel « chief of the celestial militia » that Aubert, Bishop of Avranches built and consecrated a small church on the 16th October 709. In 966 a community of Benedictines settled on the rock at the request of the Duke of Normandy and the pre-Romanesque church was built before the year one thousand.
In the 11th century, the Romanesque abbey church was founded over a set of crypts where the rock comes to an apex, and the first monastery buildings were built up against its north wall.
In the 12th century, the Romanesque monastery buildings were extended to the west and south.
In the 13th century, a donation by the king of France, Philip Augustus, in the wake of his conquest of Normandy, enabled a start to be made on the Gothic section of the "Merveille ": two three-storey buildings, crowned by the cloister and the refectory.
History of the Mont Saint-Michel : the abbey churchIn the 14th century, the Hundred Years War made it necessary to protect the abbey behind a set of military constructions, enabling it to hold out against a siege lasting 30 years.
In the 15th century, the Romanesque chancel of the abbey church, broken down in 1421 was replaced by the Gothic Flamboyant chancel.
With Rome and Saint Jacques de Compostelle, this great spiritual and intellectual centre, was one of the most important places of pilgrimage for the Medieval occident. For nearly one thousand years men, women and children went there by roads called « paths to paradise » hoping for the assurance of eternity, given by the Archangel of judgement « Peseur des ames ».
The Abbey was turned into a prison during the days of the French Revolution and Empire, and needed to be restored before the end of the 19th century.
With the celebration of the monastic's 1000th anniversary, in the year 1966 a religious community moved back to what used to be the abbatial dwellings, perpuating prayer and welcome the original vocation of this place. Friars and sisters from "Les Fraternités Monastiques de Jerusalem" have been ensuring a spiritual presence since the year 2001.
At the same time as the abbey was developing a village grew up from the Middle Age. It flourished on the south-east side of the rock surrounded by walls dated for the most part from the Hundred Years war. This village has always a commercial vocation.
UNESCO has classed the Mont Saint-Michel as a world heritage in 1979 and this mecca of tourism welcomes more than three million visitors a year.
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Sunday, June 10, 2012
The rain forest is a natural phenomenon
In the late 1990s
ranchers stripped the forest in the Brazilian state of Acre, across the border
from the Beni—only to find earthworks from a previously unknown society. This
aerial photo by the archaeologist Martti Pärssinen,
which dates from 2003, was the first to be widely disseminated; a Brazilian
researcher's gallery of images, which dates from the year before, can be found here.
In 2003, writer Charles C. Mann wrote an article in The
Atlantic (later to be turned into a book) that posited a startling idea — that
the Amazon rain forest, far from being a natural phenomenon, was a purposefully
engineered tree farm planted by humans thousands of years ago. Rogue
archaeologists Clark Erickson and William Balée believe the North and South
American continents were populated by large and advanced civilizations that
pulled off enormous feats of geoengineering, and the rain forest is a result of
hundreds of years of fruit and nut tree cultivation by farmers. If we planted
it once, that would mean we could plant it again.
Erickson and Balée belong to a cohort of scholars that in
recent years has radically challenged conventional notions of what the Western
Hemisphere was like before Columbus. When I went to high school, in the 1970s,
I was taught that Indians came to the Americas across the Bering Strait about
thirteen thousand years ago, that they lived for the most part in small,
isolated groups, and that they had so little impact on their environment that
even after millennia of habitation the continents remained mostly wilderness.
Schools still impart the same ideas today. One way to summarize the views of
people like Erickson and Balée would be to say that they regard this picture of
Indian life as wrong in almost every aspect. Indians were here far longer than
previously thought, these researchers believe, and in much greater numbers. And
they were so successful at imposing their will on the landscape that in 1492
Columbus set foot in a hemisphere thoroughly marked by humankind.
Given the charged relations between white societies and
native peoples, inquiry into Indian culture and history is inevitably
contentious. But the recent scholarship is especially controversial. To begin
with, some researchers—many but not all from an older generation—deride the
newtheories as fantasies arising from an almost willful misinterpretation of
data and a perverse kind of political correctness. “I have seen no evidence
that large numbers of people ever lived in the Beni,” Betty J. Meggers, of the Smithsonian
Institution, told me. “Claiming otherwise is just wishful thinking.” Indeed,
two Smithsonian-backed archaeologists from Argentina have argued that many of
the larger mounds are natural floodplain deposits; a “small initial population”
could have built the remaining causeways and raised fields in as little as a
decade. Similar criticisms apply to many of the new scholarly claims about
Indians, according to Dean R. Snow, an anthropologist at Pennsylvania State
University. The problem is that “you can make the meager evidence from the
ethnohistorical record tell you anything you want,” he says. “It’s really easy
to kid yourself.” And some have charged that the claims advance the political
agenda of thosewho seek to discredit European culture, because the high numbers
seem to inflate the scale of native loss.
Disputes also arise because the new theories have
implications for today’s ecological battles. Much of the environmental movement
is animated, consciously or not, by what geographer William Denevan calls “the
pristine myth”—the belief that the Americas in 1491 were an almost untouched,
even Edenic land, “untrammeled by man,” in the words of the Wilderness Act of
1964, a U.S. law that is one of the founding documents of the global
environmental movement. To green activists, as the University of Wisconsin
historian William Cronon has written, restoring this long-ago, putatively
natural state is a task that society is morally bound to undertake. Yet if the
new view is correct and the work of humankind was pervasive, where does that
leave efforts to restore nature?
The Beni is a case in point. In addition to building roads,
causeways, canals, dikes, reservoirs, mounds, raised agricultural fields, and
possibly ball courts, Erickson has argued, the Indians who lived there before
Columbus trapped fish in the seasonally flooded grassland. The trapping was not
a matter of a few isolated natives with nets, but a society-wide effort in
which hundreds or thousands of people fashioned dense, zigzagging networks of
earthen fish weirs (fish-corralling fences) among the causeways. Much of the
savanna is natural, the result of seasonal flooding. But the Indians maintained
and expanded the grasslands by regularly setting huge areas on fire. Over the
centuries the burning created an intricate ecosystem of fire-adapted plant
species dependent on indigenous pyrophilia. The Beni’s current inhabitants
still burn, although now it is mostly to maintain the savanna for cattle. When
we flew over the region, the dry season had just begun, but mile-long lines of
flame were already on the march. Smoke rose into the sky in great, juddering
pillars. In the charred areas behind the fires were the blackened spikes of
trees, many of them of species that activists fight to save in other parts of
Amazonia.
The future of the Beni is uncertain, especially its most
thinly settled region, near the border with Brazil. Some outsiders want to
develop the area for ranches, as has been done with many U.S. grasslands.
Others want to keep this sparsely populated region as close to wilderness as
possible. Local Indian groups regard this latter proposal with suspicion. If
the Beni becomes a reserve for the “natural,” they ask, what international
organization would let them continue setting the plains afire? Could any
outside group endorse large-scale burning in Amazonia? Instead, Indians propose
placing control of the land into their hands. Activists, in turn, regard that
idea without enthusiasm—some indigenous groups in the U.S. Southwest have promoted
the use of their reservations as repositories for nuclear waste. And, of
course, there is all that burning.
Lilypads
The planet is warming, glaciers are melting and sea levels
are rising, which means that people living in low-lying areas will be displaced
over the next century. That’s why architect Vincent Callebaut designed
Lilypads, self-sufficient floating cities that would each accommodate up to
50,000 people. Inspired by the shape of Victoria water lilies, these eco-cities
would each be made of polyester fibers and feature three mountains and marinas
— dedicated to work, shopping and entertainment. Aquaculture farms and
suspended gardens would be located below the water line, and the cities would
run on renewable energy.
Callebaut plans for his Lilypad concept to become a reality
in 2100, but this is sure to be an expensive piece of real estate so one may
wonder how displaced climate change refugees will afford to live on these
state-of-the-art floating cities.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
From mythological approaches to independent geological expertise
In former times, things used to be very different, and for
most of human history the observation of geological phenomena and the
acquisition of geological expertise was intimately connected with religious
ideas. Earthquakes and volcanoes, towering mountains and conspicuous rock
formations, fossils and ore veins were regarded either as due to direct divine
action and intervention or as manifestations of the divine itself (Mazadiego et
al.; Barbaro). It was God (or Gods), who had created the Earth as ‘home’ for
humans, providing the necessary resources (animals and plants, but also water,
rocks and metals), or who might be suspected to exert punishment on sinners by
means of natural disasters (Kölbl-Ebert 2005; Udias on earthquakes).
Although accepting flint and pyrite in prehistoric time, or later copper and
other ores, to be gifts of divine providence (Norris) is some sort of
explanation for their existence, that assumption was clearly not sufficient to
enable adequate strategies for the search for new deposits to be devised.
Observational skills and arrangement of observations according to rules and
guidelines (involving the formulation of theories) were required, and
eventually such knowledge was accumulated and became part of the craft
knowledge of miners.
Also, from an intellectual point of view, invoking divine
action as a general and all-fitting explanation of phenomena was unsatisfying
for an intellectual, and even for the devout theist who would like to know how
God ‘did it’. After all, curiosity is a decidedly human trait. For this more
theoretical part of ‘geological expertise’, the late Medieval and Renaissance
intellectual world turned to the remnants of much older knowledge, that of the
antiquity, which apparently had been a golden, better and much more
knowledgeable age, judging from the ruins that were still around. Why not trust
the explanatory power and authority of ancient texts (including the Bible) that
had been produced by these obviously advanced civilizations?
This intimate link between early geo-theory and Christian
philosophy proved to be very fruitful for some time, because the Christian
tradition of visualizing the history of humans on Earth from the creation, via
global revolutions such as the biblical Flood up to historical times (Rudwick
1992; Magruder) and the Judaeo-Christian sense of a finite Earth history
(Rudwick; see also Rudwick 2005) prepared the ground for accepting the Earth’s
different strata as testimony to the development of our globe through time. It
was this religious, theological framework from which the early geology started
to evolve, and that provided the tools used in popularization of the new
science of the seventeenth century. It is understandable why, for example,
geological phenomena such as erratic blocks and other debris covering much of
Europe were initially seen as a consequence of events mentioned in the Bible
and other ancient texts. However, with increasing observations there was a
growing mismatch between what was expected according to ancient authorities
(Godard; Luzzini) and the actual data. This was not necessarily a problem,
since influential theologians, such as Augustine of Hippo (AD 354– 430) or the
medieval theological scholar Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), knew that biblical
texts needed to be interpreted and that adopting a naive literal reading might
do more harm than good to the Christian faith:
In discussing
questions of this kind two rules are to be observed, as Augustine teaches. The
first is, to hold to the truth of Scripture without wavering. The second is
that since Holy Scripture can be explained in a multiplicity of senses, one
should adhere to a particular explanation only in such measure as to be ready
to abandon it if it be proved with certainty to be false,2 lest Holy Scripture
be exposed to the ridicule of unbelievers, and obstacles be placed to their
believing (Aquinas 1273, 1st part, question 68).
Subsequently, attempts to reconcile the growing timescale of
geology with biblical chronology became widespread in the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries. The most popular, apart from more metaphorical
interpretations of the biblical creation stories, were possibly the ‘gap
theory’ (or ‘chaos/ restitution theory’3), claiming an indefinitely long time
span between Genesis 1: 1–2 or 2–3 and the ‘day–age theory’ (or concordance
theory), which interpreted the days of biblical creation as seven long eras,
which might be equated with different geological formations (see Roberts, on Sedgwick).
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