Its night time
on the far side of the moon. On 11 July the China National Space Administration
(CNSA) announced it had sent commands to its Chang’e-4
probe on the far side of the moon to go into its dormant state. The lander
and the rover will both ‘sleep’ through the 14 day lunar night before they are
sent commands to wake up and continue the mission. The lander and rover require
sunlight to charge their electrical systems and so can only operate during the moon’s
daytime. For the moon to completely rotate on its axis and the sunlight to
return, takes approximately 29 days. The nighttime, when there is no sun, and
the daytime, when the sun’s light reaches the surface of the far side of the
moon, are both approximately 14.5 days. The progress of the lunar days across
the surface of the moon can be easily seen from Earth in the changes phases of
the moon.
However, as
explained in the CNSA 11 July report, “As a result of
the tidal locking effect [between the Earth and the Moon], the moon’s
revolution cycle is the same as its rotation cycle, and the same side always
faces Earth.”
This synchronicity has historically caused the far-side of the moon to remain unseen and a mystery (1). That is until the early days of humanity’s first tentative steps into space. In October 1959 a lunar probe, Luna 3, launched by the Soviet Union, sent back pictures of the far side of the moon. The first humans to see the far side of the moon were the American astronauts in Apollo 8 as they orbited the moon (10 times) in December 1968.
There is still a great deal to discover about the moon, both on the far side and on the side that faces the earth. The return of the sun, and the return of the Chang’e-4 probe to its mission, may enable further discoveries and help humanity to heighten the potential of humanity’s return to the moon – and to go beyond.
The pictures at the top include (upper) a picture from the current Chinese mission on the moon, and two pictures (lower) from Apollo 8.
(1) Lil Wayne’s song “Dark Side of the Moon” – with Nicki Minaj – speaks to the mystery of the far side of the moon. – “On the dark side of the moon I’ll be waiting, I’ll be waiting for you On the dark side of the moon And If you happen to get there before me Leave a message in the dust just for me If I don’t see it I’ll be waiting for you On the dark side of the moon (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)” (Lyrics copied from https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lilwayne/darksideofthemoon.html .)
Who is up for a nice long walk? How
about a trek across 2,000 plus miles of frozen ice north of the Arctic Circle?
A young, female Artic Fox was ready for it, and so off she went. She walked (or picturing a fox, she trotted) from Norway’s Svalbard archipelago (well west of Norway in the Arctic Ocean.) to Ellesmere Island well to the east of mainland Canada. She had previously been fitted with a radio collar by the Norwegian Polar Institute and was tracked as she covered the 2,175 miles. The straight-line distance between the two points is 935 miles. So, it is evident that the fox wandered a bit on her path. Her path took her across the frozen Arctic Ocean and across, or if she stayed on the frozen sea ice (which I doubt) near to, the northern end of Greenland. According to The Guardian article in which I first read about the fox, she took 76 days to make the trek. That gives an average distance of 29 miles per day. The article also stated that she walked an astonishing 96 miles on one of those days. Why the burst of speed? Maybe she saw what she was following and wanted to get closer. Perhaps something was following her, and she wanted to get away.
What could have been the reason for such a walk? Its reason enough for me just to see what’s on the other side of the distant hills. But a walk of this distance is much, much further than I have ever walked. At one time I had entertained the idea of walking across the United States, but for numerous reasons that did not happen. However, I generally walk between 600 and 800 miles in a year. That may be no great distance compared to hikers and walkers of a higher order. But for me, each mile and each hour spent outside enjoying whatever weather the day grants me, is a delight. The enjoyment can be multiplied by the animals and other people I might meet on the trail.
Which reminds me of a verse from a great hiking song – The Happy Wanderer, or “I love to go a-wandering”.
“I wave my hat to all I meet And They wave back to me And blackbirds call so loud and sweet From ev’ry green wood tree”.
I wonder what the little fox met along her track. Were there other foxes? Perhaps she saw a polar bear, and perhaps the bear’s attention was why she put in the 96 mile day. Did she see a narwhale rising at its breathing hole, first its pike piercing the air and then its rounded form lifting high out of the water. Or perhaps she heard the singing of the Beluga whale.
When the fox started her trek in
March 2018, her fur may have still been pure white. She blended in well with
the ice and snow all around her. When she arrived in Ellesmere Island in July
she was likely covered in her summer coat of brown. The Artic Fox changes color
throughout the year in order to match the seasonal landscape of her
environment. In Winter, she is white. In Summer, she is brown to dark brown to
black. And in-between her fur is changing and has a grizzled appearance. This
in-between “morph” is called Blue. So, often the Artic Fox is called the Blue
Fox. Wikipedia has good article, titled Artic Fox. It describes her well, and
has excellent pictures of the fox in its habitat and in its different
colorations.
The little vixen’s trek across the
Arctic Ocean was doubtlessly a grueling journey. I hope she found what she was
looking for.
I have been away for a while, and I apologize for the lapse. However, I was in a car accident. As a result of my injuries, I have not been able to prepare articles for my blog. But now I’m back, and I am looking forward to writing and sharing posts on science and on being out of doors.
My
recovery is progressing well, and I am often outside walking in the
neighborhood or sitting in my yard enjoying the birds and the breezes.
Thank you for returning to Stonefig and checking for new articles. I intend to post a new article in the next day or so, and hopefully will be posting two or three articles a week as I had done before.
Enjoy
being outside. And enjoy reading on the current trends in science.
Be careful on the road. I am fortunate and thankful that my town has excellent paramedics who were able to respond quickly and for the policeman who was first on the scene and performed life-saving CPR.
Not everything outside is pleasant. Some of the unpleasant things are just nature’s way, like mosquitoes, angry wasps, and poison ivy. These can be often be avoided by an informed hiker who watches where they step and is careful in what they do.
But some unpleasantness
on the trail is – well – caused by our fellow hikers.
It’s all
about sharing the trail.
Today it
often seems that sharing the trail is not just with fellow hikers but with
their dogs as well.
Don’t get me
wrong, I like dogs. I have lived with several at different times. They were a
wonderful addition to my life, and I miss them. They were a delight. And I hope
when they met other people at home, or on the trail, or at the beach, or in the
neighborhood that they (and I ) were courteous to my neighbors and to their
dogs and other pets.
Today however
there seem to be more dogs than ever. You see them with their owners in stores (including
food stores which I think in most areas is against local ordnances), you see them
in restaurants, and in the neighborhoods. Thankfully, the days of letting dogs
run loose is far behind us. Most often when I see a dog it is on a leash as
most should be when out in public. The leash enables better control and can keep
the dog safe.
In order to
be courteous, the first of the two major things for a dog and owner is to know where
they are allowed and where they are not allowed. If you are not sure, ask. Ask
the store manager if you can bring your dog inside. Ask the restaurant owner if
you can have your dog with you at the table. And read the signs in public
parks.
The second
major thing is to make sure your dog is trained in how to act around other
people and their pets. This is huge! No one wants a dog to jump on them – even in
a friendly manner. No one wants their dog to be attacked or otherwise intimidated
by another dog. And dogs like to be trained. It gives them a sense of pride.
And its not hard. It takes a certain level of commitment by the owner to ensure
their dog knows not to pull on the lease, and knows how to sit and stay, and
how to be quiet.
In my walks and hikes I have seen extremely bad examples of dogs with absolutely no training who are basically wild and often aggressive. And I have often seen dogs that are exceptionally well trained and basically are at peace with their surroundings. In these later cases the dog, and the owner, and I are all glad to share the trail.
One last thing,
and this is totally to the owners. Sure, you dog has to “go”. We all get that.
And thank you to the vast percentage of folks who clean up after their dogs. But
after you have cleaned it up – PLEASE take it with you. Most National Parks no
longer have trash receptacles. You are expected to take your waste with you
when you go. And this includes those little plastic bags of dog waste. No one
is going to come behind you and pick it up. Please put it in your car and take
it home and dispose of it there. No one wants to have to start a nice walk in
the woods with the sight of waste bags all around the trail head.
“I was here 50 years ago. How much has the Canyon eroded
since I was here last?”
I was standing at the edge of the South Rim of the Grand
Canyon in Arizona. I was talking to a park ranger who looked like she would
appreciate my curiosity – and also looked like she would know the answer.
She answered, “The Canyon erodes about the thickness of a
piece of paper each year.”
“So,” I said, “that’s 50 sheets of paper, a tenth of a ream,
about three-quarters of an inch. I thought I saw the difference.”
And yes, I did see a difference. Not when I peer over the edge and look outwards towards where I can see the Colorado River, but when I look around. There are more people at the Canyon then there had been in November of 1973. The Park is more modern. The trails look better than they had 50 years ago. But the trail down into the Canyon looked just as challenging.
In both my visits to the South Rim, 50 years ago and now, there was snow on the ground. The snow adds to the beauty of the Canyon, as the rocks and trees and shadow are accentuated by the stark white of the snow. But caution is necessary as the trails can be icy and slippery. But with snow or sun caution is always necessary as with the added erosion of the past 50 years its a long way down – plus a bit.
During this visit I would not hike the South Kaibab trail; I
would do my hiking on the rim trail. But in 1973 I wanted to see how far down I
could get before I had to come back up at day’s end. I started early in the
morning with a light pack that I bought the day before in which I had an extra pair
of gloves, some sardines and crackers, and something to drink. I don’t think
they sold water in bottles back then. I was layered against the cold and had on
my sea-duty rain jacket with a hood. It was heavy over my denim jacket, but it would
certainly keep me dry. I also had on my woolen watch cap.
I had my copper bound walking stick and was ready to begin my
descent. It was cold and clear, and I was the only person on the trail. It was
great. The views of the Canyon opening to me were exhilarating. I could look
back millions of years as I passed the rock face of the trail wall. I took time
to think of all the history that had passed in the first few yards, and then I
was well down into the prehistory of the Earth.
It was the uplift of the Colorado Plateau that allowed the marvel of the Grand Canyon to become. About 70 million years ago tectonic forces lifted an area that is now within Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona. As mountains formed and snows and rains fell the nascent Colorado River began its journey off the Colorado Plateau down to the Gulf of California. The River began to cut its way through the uplifted plateau as it sought to reach sea level. As it picked up sediments from its sources it flowed across the uplifted plateau like liquid sandpaper. The rushing River gouged and polished its way down to its present level. As the River grew so did the feeder streams that flowed into it; each cutting its own side canyon. The Canyon sides collapsed as the River cut deeper. This collapse created the width of the current Canyon. Rain and freezing water and trees and wind worked their own patterns of erosion on the Canyon walls, dislodging rocks that would tumble down towards the River below.
And here was another difference. As I hiked down in 1973 I
kept an eye on the weather at the Canyon rim. I could l see clouds gathering
and knew that it was snowing at the top. After reaching Skeleton Point and eating
my sardines and crackers, I knew it was time to turn back in order to get out
of the Canyon before the weather worsened. I was trudging up the last half mile
in snow, leaving my footprints behind me. The wind was blowing the snow, and I
had my hood up. Then I heard something.
It sounded like the thumping of distant thunder. I put my hood back so I could
hear better. There was a rumble and rattle of above me. I looked up and saw a
good size rock rolling down the Canyon side in my direction. I took several
steps backwards and watched as the rock landed on the trail where I had been
standing and bounded further down and out of sight in the direction of the River.
I had witnessed the process of the Canyon. Things change. That
rock is now in a different place and the level of the Canyon floor is now
lower. And I can tell the difference.
There are plenty of sights to see on the road through Texas. The country is starkly beautiful. It’s early Spring and some color is beginning to come to the grasses that line the roads and cover the fields. But one thing that I thought I would see, cattle, well I don’t see too many. But what I do see in the area around Midland Texas are pumps. I am driving through the area of the Permian Basin. Rank upon rank of oil pumps as far into the distance as I can see. If I use Google Earth I can see the area is covered with white specks. Each speck is an area around a pump or derrick where the grass has been beaten down and trucks are parked and various pieces of support equipment lay about. One thing of note is there are a lot of pickup trucks on the road and most are towing an open bed trailer. And they are all in a hurry. They are not being driven unsafely, just in a hurry. Out here time is truly money. it’s the ranks of pumps that draws my attention. As I drive down Interstate I-10 most of the pumps are nodding up and down driven by a massive cam and engine. Each one pulling crude oil out of the ground.
The Permian Basin contains more crude oil than any other
location within the United States and is one of the great oil resources of the
world.
Like it or not oil and gas extraction is part of our world.
It drives industry. It enables us to get around. And this will continue until a
different economically dependable energy source is developed. What is the good
of extracting and burning the essence of years that passed millions of years
ago? The resources that lie in the Permian Basin under Texas and New Mexico
were lain in that place during the Permian age. This age preceded the time of
the dinosaurs, and ended approximately 250 million years ago. Its end came with
in a mass extinction of more than 90% of the species on earth. Then as the continents
separated, the remnants of the age were overlain by the sediments of the
following eras and were compressed onto the hydrocarbon slurry that is drilled
for today.
That drilling provides jobs in Texas. The taxes derived from
those jobs built the road I drove down. But the economic reach of the oil
extracted from the Permian Basin extends well beyond to local area. It enables
many American to drive and to produce and to build. It enables us to create and
to sell. But this comes at a substantial price. The burning of the refined
extract causes pollution in our neighborhoods and smog in our cities. It
pollutes the air and dumps chemicals into the atmosphere. These chemicals
included CO2 and other “greenhouse gases” which are causing global warming and
causing the acidification of the oceans.
But today I see work and prosperity. I see people going to their jobs, being proud of the work they are doing, and doing good work. But beyond here, the same companies that are operating the wells and refining the oil into the world’s fuel, are also working on what may be “a different economically dependable energy source”, which may power people’s jobs and give them economic independence, and provide them with food, shelter, heathy lives, and pride in their existence.
When I see a snow knee I know it is the result of massive snows bending a tree over. It is also on a down-hill slope. The tree has been bent by the weight of winter snows in the mountains pushing down, laterally, on its trunk. The tree is generally straight above the knee, as in the Spring it shakes off the snows and grows true. But the knee remains, a tell-tale bend in the tree that shows its survival of passing winters.
This was different. The tree had a bend, but it was lateral
to the slope, not down-hill. And here in the rolling hills of Virginia we have
not had the amounts of snow generally associated with the snow-kneed trees of
the Rocky Mountains of the western United States. Something else had bent this
tree.
It was clear what had happened. I could see that the tree had been bent over early in its life. Some other tree or a large limb had fallen and caught the little tree and forced it down to the ground. But the smaller tree’s thin trunk had been flexible, and it did not split. The little tree was pushed done, nearly to the ground, under the weight of it fallen sister.
All signs of the other tree are gone, but the bent tree
tells the story of the fall, the crushing blow, and the aftermath.
Sometime in the past, disease or a windstorm caused a tree to fall in these woods. It was likely a large tree, not huge, but about 10 inches in circumference. Or it was a limb that was downed by the same causes. It fell from a tree that may still stands in the forest. When it – tree or branch – fell, it hit the little tree. It bent the smaller tree over and pinned it to the ground. And there they lay. The smaller tree would never be able to right itself due to the weight of the large tree/branch.
But the smaller tree did not give in. Its root structure had not been torn out of the ground and was still intact. The smaller tree was still viable could grow even under the weight of the tree/branch that had crushed it. The top of the smaller tree which lay pressed to the ground died and fell away. Today there is a scar of healed wood that surrounds the rotted spot now so close to the ground. The scar is partially covered by a round, rolled callus of wound-wood. This callus is the tree’s natural response to the injury. The callus seals off the damaged area and protects it from infection.
Today the larger tree/branch is gone. But the smaller tree
still lives. It is twisted to be sure, yet even in its captive state, it threw
off a new branch that reaches vertically up from its twisted trunk and each
year leafs and blossoms with some of the prettiest flowers in the forest. It is
a dogwood. Its dense wood helped it survive the blow. Its resilience helped it
to live and to grow. And its nature gives flowers and brightness to this patch
of the deep woods.
Now it is Winter. In the Spring the tree will again show its toughness and determination, and it will flower.
News sources around the world have reported the death of Wallace Broecker. As a climate scientist, he penned an article that was published in the journal Science in 1975. This article was among the early warning calls of the effect of atmospheric carbon dioxide (CO2) to cause a rise in the global mean temperature. Dr. Broecker titled the article “Are we on the brink of a pronounced Global Warming”. Through his article, and many others that followed, the term “global warming” has come into common use and is readily understood by all to imply a continuing rise in the global temperature to the point that it has a detrimental effect on the oceans, wildlife, agriculture, and human society.
As Broecker stated in his 1975 article, “… the exponential rise in atmospheric carbon dioxide content will tend to become a significant factor and by early in the next century [the ‘next century’ started in 2000] will have driven the mean planetary temperature beyond the limits experienced during the last 1000 years.”
Further in the article
Broecker predicted, “As the CO2 effect will dominate, the uncertainty … lies
mainly in the estimates of future chemical fuel use and the magnitude of the
warming per unit of excess atmospheric CO2.” When any of us is outside we can
see and often smell the exhaust of the continuing use, and increased use, of
fossil (chemical) fuels by the world’s expanding population.
So when in his article
Broecker asks, “Are we in for a climate surprise?”, the answer is both yes and
no. Yes, it is happening, CO2 continues to clog our atmosphere. But no, in 2019
it is not a surprise.
The 1975 article may be found at – https://blogs.ei.columbia.edu//files/2009/10/broeckerglobalwarming75.pdf
In December of last year Science News reported on the discovery of
a crater under the ice in Greenland. It is thought to have been caused by a meteorite
nearly a mile wide. It was discovered during a scan of the thickness of the ice
in the polar regions. The researchers were drawn to look more closely at the
area due to the rounded edge of the ice over the crater.
In 2001 I was taking a commercial flight from California to the
east coast. As I often do I took out the airline magazine from the seat back pocket
and looked at the map of all the airline’s routes. As my trip took me via
Dallas, I realized that the route would take us over Winslow, Arizona. This meant
we might be flying over America’s most accessible meteor crater. I asked the
flight attendant if she would ask the pilot to let us know if the crater could
be seen from the airplane. About half an hour later the pilot announced that if
we were to look out the windows on the right side of the plane we could see the
crater.
There far below us with a clearly raised edge was an obvious
crater in the Arizona desert. It was by no means tiny even at our perspective
from thirty-some thousand feet. It was roundish, with a particularly squared-off
shape. You could clearly see that it was a depression in the Earth.
Years before I had been there to see the crater, and had taken the
opportunity to walk down to the crater’s floor. In 1971 I was driving to
California for a stint in the Navy. My route west took me along I-40 which passes
the Meteor Crater. I needed a break from the highway, and I was curious about
what the crater looked like. It was summer, and it was hot. When I entered the
visitors’ center and was purchasing a ticket the man at the counter asked if I
was in the military and when I showed him my military ID card he waved me on
through. I asked him if I could hike down into the crater. He said that if I
wanted to I would have to hurry because it was at least an hour’s hike down and
back. As I walked towards the door to the outside he called out to me, “Take
plenty of water. And look out for snakes.” Good advice to a down-east boy on
his first trip to the desert. The path was over a quarter mile long and rocky
and steep. When I finally reached the bottom, I stood on the crater floor and
looked up at the rim towering 500 feet above me. It had been windy and hot when
I stood on the rim. On the crater floor there was no wind, and it was hotter. I
don’t remember as much of the hike down into the crater as much as I remember the
hike back out. I didn’t see any snakes, but I kept thinking that I should have
carried more water. The path up was a scramble in the loose sand and rocks that
easily gave way under my feet. When I reached the rim, I was hot, tired, and thirsty.
But it was a good hike – if only that I could say that I had done
it. It’s not something they allow visitors to do anymore and probably with good
reason. The crater can be a trap. It was simple to get down into it, but not so
easy to get out of.
At over a half mile wide the Arizona crater is impressive in size
but it doesn’t even crack the top ten of known impact craters on the surface of
the earth. But most of the known craters are not as visible or accessible as
the one in Arizona. They are hidden by millennia of erosion or they may be under
water. The largest known impact crater is Vredefort crater
in South Africa. It is 118 miles across and was created by an impacting celestial
body that was approximately 3 to 6 miles across approximately 2 billion years
ago. This crater is more than twice the size of the Chicxulub crater which is theorized to have been the finishing blow to the
reign of the dinosaurs 66 million years ago. The recently discovered but
undated crater under the Greenland ice sheet is 19 miles wide. Another crater
in Greenland reported in 2012 in Space.com is estimated to be three billion
years old and the oldest known impact site on Earth.
But back to Arizona. In the early 1900’s attempts were made to
find the meteorite that crashed in to what is now the Painted Desert of Arizona.
The object is estimated to have been up to 300,000 tons. The mass of the meteor
and its speed likely caused the meteor to vaporize in its explosive impact. When
you are on the rim of the crater its not hard to look up and imagine what the
object might have looked like as it streaked across the sky and then exploded
just before impact, carving out the crater. Soil and plants and rocks and
rubble were heaved upward and outwards.
In 1994 I was again standing on the rim of the Arizona crater. I could
look up and imagine the bright light that suddenly appeared in the sky and with
a thunderous roar exploded in front of me. Of course if I had been standing there
50,000-some years ago I would have been vaporized as well. What is a safe distance
from such a blast? Miles and miles I am sure. And even if I was at such a
distance to only feel the earth tremble and to see the blinding flash on the
horizon and to have been knocked to my knees by the pressure wave from the
explosion, I am sure that it would have left a searing mark on my memory. The
mark I carry now is one of looking up from the crater floor towards the rim and
realizing that the best path for me to take was upward and out before the night
fell. And I was wishing I had brought more water.
Information on the craters mentioned above may be found at:
