Geologist’s brains are stuffed with enormous amount of terms like basalt, fault scarp, xenolith, etc. These are theoretical concepts but they represent phenomena that do exist in nature. It is a joy shared perhaps by all geologists to be outdoors and discover examples of these textbook concepts in real life. This is what sets geologists apart from the rest when wandering around in the field.
We seem to be constantly looking for these things and are delighted when we found them because it tells us that we have really understood at least something about the landscape that surrounds us. Lots of us also carry a camera and the way we take pictures tends to be heavily influenced by what we know and find. This is the way geological knowledge has influenced me and I believe the same is true with many other if not most geologists.
I have noticed that I do take photos somewhat differently. Most people tend to grab their camera when they see a beautiful scenery. It almost always means that you can take a broad look over some distant but prominent features like high cliffs, mountain range, deep river valley, etc. I don’t want to say that I don’t take these photos but I realise that I will never take a photo that represents all the beauty I can see with my eyes. It is partly because my photographic skills are inadequate for the job and partly because photos are just poor two-dimensional representations of the real world. They can never tell the real story because they will not tell us how frightening it was to stand on the edge of the cliff, how three-dimensional the whole scene was when we saw it with two eyes instead of one camera lens, how strong the wind was blowing and so on. It so frequently happens that someone shows his or her travel photos and starts to explain and complain that it was really so much more beautiful when I was there and this photo for some strange reason is just a crap.
So instead of scenery photos I devote much of my time in an attempt to go nearer and take photos that only tell a part of the bigger story. If I can collect enough puzzle pieces, then maybe I can assemble some sort of story. Looking for these puzzle pieces means that I am looking for concepts I can understand. I try to figure out what type of rocks I am seeing. It tells a lot to a geologist. Then I am paying attention to structure and texture. I try to interpret how the landscape might have evolved. And whenever I think I understood something I try to take a photo because photos are desperately needed if you plan to tell a geological story. Geology is so highly visual science that camera is much more useful tool for me than my rock hammer although the latter is traditionally depicted as the most important tool of geologists.
Flowing lava on Kilauea volcano.
I don’t think I have a favorite photo but this one is from my recent trip to Hawaii and I like it because it can be used in several different ways. It can be used to demonstrate how basalt as a rock type forms. It also demonstrates nicely how the inner flow of thick basaltic lava warps the outer surface of the flow, thus creating a specific type of lava flow that geologists know as pahoehoe. It also demonstrates how quickly lava loses heat. It is first bright yellow but turns red after couple of seconds and half a minute later its surface is not glowing anymore. However, the outer surface may lose heat rapidly but it also seems to be a poor conductor of heat. The interior of the flow remains red hot for a long time and may break through the hardened crust to start new glowing lava tongue as can be seen in the lower part of the photo.
This post is my contribution to the Accretionary Wedge #56: The Geologist as Photographer, hosted by Andrew Alden.
It is also my 300th post on Sandatlas.
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