Getting my science on

There is a reason that I am an editor who studied linguistics. My mind isn't as well tuned to science.

However, even though I don't have a scientific brain, I still find science incredibly interesting. In another life, I could be a scientist. I got to experience the wonders of science this week.

Astronomy
More than six years ago, I had an astronomy class at BYU, and our professor told us about an upcoming eclipse in the United States that would be passing through Idaho in 2017. "You should really make an effort to see it," she told us.

Well, for several years I had some misconceptions about the eclipse. I thought it would be in December, rather than August, and I thought it would be farther north in Idaho. I was looking forward to a visit to my old mission stomping grounds. (See, I had only been home a little over a year, and it took me forever to get out of that awkward "I want to go back!" stage.) But the actual path of the eclipse made the commute a little easier, and I'm so glad it was in August rather than December, because there was plenty of light for traveling and no inclement weather.

Anyway, as the eclipse loomed nearer, I realized I had to get serious about making plans, as hotels and campsites were getting booked. I wanted to see where else was in the path of totality, and I noticed that it went directly over Lander, Wyoming. Perfect! My uncle lives in Lander!

So I took my childhood friend David with me to spend the night at my uncle's house. I didn't realize until later that the GPS I was using refuses to go on freeways (yes, we've checked the settings), so it took us on back highways the entire time. Oh well, it was a lovely drive, and traffic was no problem whatsoever. The next morning, we decided to drive someplace where totality would last longer, since Lander was on the edge of totality. So we went to the "town" of Crowheart, Wyoming, and parked along the side of the road.

There were lots of other people parked on shoulders, pull-outs, and rest areas. We got there in time for the beginning of the eclipse. I saw partial eclipses in 2012 and 2014, so I was familiar with what to expect with that. 2012 was pretty well publicized, but 2014 was not, and no one ever told me about the crescents in the tree shadows, which everyone seemed excited about this time around.

We noticed it getting dimmer and cooler while we sat in our folding chairs waiting for totality. And then it came! It looked like twilight, but it was 11:30 a.m.

I could see a few stars and I think Venus, though I didn't learn it was Venus till later. 

Picture courtesy of KSL Weather Facebook page. This is one of the most accurate pictures I've seen of what I saw.

I only had my phone to try to take pictures, but no picture, not even the professional ones, is like seeing the real thing. There's just something about seeing this white, glowing ring in the sky, with the gases coming off the sun. For those of you who stayed home and just saw partiality--sorry, but you're doing it wrong.

And soon thereafter, the eclipse was ending. I think I briefly saw Baily's beads, which is when the sun peeks through the moon's peaks and you see little spots of lights on the edge. But it was so brief that I'm not certain. And then I could no longer look at the sun without the eclipse glasses. I was surprised at how quickly the temperature rose and the sky got lighter once totality was over.

We waited a bit to see more of partiality and then we headed home. Lander, Wyoming, was packed on the way out; we went about ten miles in one hour. But then it got better, and it was smooth sailing almost all the way home.

Entomology

My mom signed up for a weekly box of fresh produce, and this week I took one of the peaches in my lunch. I noticed that it had a hole in the top near the stem, but I had a few bites before I looked closely in the hole.

 I expected there to be a moth in there, but as I looked closely, I realized, those are earwig pincers!

 There were actually two live earwigs in it, though one of them was more active than the other. It began running all over the table in the break room, and I tried to get it on the paper towel for when I threw the peach away, but I couldn't. So I ultimately smashed it. And as I watched it instantly stop with its fluids spilling out, I felt sad and guilty. The other one was still alive in the peach when I threw it away.

Geology

Actually, I kind of am a geologist, since I minored in it. Four years ago, I took a field studies class, Geology 210, and our first week we made a geologic map of Albion Basin in Little Cottonwood Canyon. This week I figured that the class would be back in session. What if I went up to Albion Basin and saw if I ran (literally) into them? So I made plans to go up there to change things up and try running on a new trail for once. Well, that morning I researched it and found out that the class had changed, so there wouldn't be anyone there. I was more disappointed than I expected. But since I had made the plans to do so, I figured it would still be a fun experience.

I decided to go up to Cecret Lake, because that seemed like the most likely place where I would know where to go. Four years ago, I didn't even know trail running was a thing, so I thought it would be fun to run this time. I'm certainly in better shape now than I was then.

Most of the trail runs through the Tintic Quartzite from the Cambrian Period, about 500 million years ago, when Utah was on the edge of the continent. I was happy to see glacial striations, which is when rocks trapped underneath a glacier carve scratches into the bedrock. These striations, of course, are very recent, geologically speaking.

 As I got up to Cecret Lake, I was able to find the outcrop of the Mineral Fork Tillite, near where my mapping group ate lunch one day. The Mineral Fork Tillite is a Precambrian glacial deposit, dating back to when the earth was an icehouse, around 700 million years ago.

The Mineral Fork Tillite is the dark band in the center of the picture. A fault thrust it on top of Tintic Quartzite, when it should be below it.

 There was a moose on the opposite shore of Cecret Lake, which was both cool and disconcerting.

 I tried to retrace my steps from four years ago and find the trails we took. My "run" was very slow, in part because I kept getting confused. I ended up going up a steep hill to a ridge for skiers. I've never been skiing, so I could only imagine what it looked like covered with snow.

 I returned to Cecret Lake, and I noticed some pebbles in the quartzite, and then I stumbled across the contact between the quartzite and the tillite.

Tan/gray Tintic Quartzite on the left, brown Mineral Fork Tillite on the right.

 I got closer to finding the old path I took, but I still couldn't find it. Part of it was that I didn't want to get close to the moose, and part of it was that I didn't want to get lost, by myself, on a mountain, in the evening. I heard a chirp, and I looked down and saw a pika! It kept picking plants with its mouth and running off with them sticking out. It was adorable. Only a kitten or a two-year-old could be more adorable.

As I was making my way back down, I realized, "Wait a second. This is igneous rock! This is a dike," an instance of a small line of magma intruding in the rock. I was glad that after four years, I was able to notice it.

I was surprised how close people got to the moose.

I was a little disappointed I couldn't find all of the trail I took four years ago. And I was only on one side of the basin, so I didn't get to see any of the Ophir Shale, Maxfield Limestone, or Mississippian-age limestone. Oh well. Even though I ate peanut butter Clif Bars and listened to Lady Gaga's "Applause" that night for memory's sake, you really can't re-create a bygone era.