Geology

Today our crew was interviewed by Amnon Govrin, a space enthusiast blogger. He brought his twin 9-year-old sons, and we had a good time showing all three of them around our Hab, GreenHab, Musk Observatory, and Engineering Station. Amnon came equipped with a sharp camera and a list of questions for us. The kids seemed really taken by anything vertical: the steps we climb up to our living quarters, the ladder to the storage loft, the hills outside the Hab, and so on. We had planned for an EVA to leave just as Amnon arrived, so he and his sons could see the whole suit-up and EVA preparation process.

I led EVA 19 off on a quest for Valles Marineris, accompanied by Mike and Darrel. In some ways, the Mars-y names assigned to these local Utah features feel a little weird. Our local Olympus Mons doesn’t rise much more than 65 meters above the surrounding plain, rather than the jaw-dropping 27,000 meters attained by the Olympus Mons on Mars (three times taller than Mount Everest). Likewise, our local Valles Marineris surely could not compare to the 7,000-meter deep feature on Mars. But I’d heard that it was still a sight to see, so I wanted to investigate first-hand.

This was a bit of challenge, since Valles Marineris is positioned on the same Cactus Road that we failed to find on EVA 16. The road had been washed out so badly that, with patchy snowcover littering the terrain, I couldn’t be confident that we were *on* a road. I am (maybe overly) cautious about exploring into the unknown because I really hate to cause any damage to the desert terrain, even aside from the BLM requirement that we stay on trails. But today we went out with fresh determination and scouted away from Lowell Highway until we found bona fide ATV tracks, just around a hill. Encouraged, we took off down “Cactus Road”, which was actually the muddy bottom of a trickling runoff creek.

We came upon Valles Marineris almost immediately, as our creek-bed road cut down through 30-50 feet of layered rock. The mini-canyon walls rose up, revealing beautifully bedded layers. I was torn between stopping to photograph and inch along each bit of exposed section, and wanting to explore further with my EVA-mates. We’d only been out for about 15 minutes, and I knew we all wanted to go further than that! So we drove along further, eventually striking a road leading up a snowy slope to the south.

We crested the hill and found ourselves on a wide plain. Truly deep canyons dropped off in the distance to our left (later we confirmed them as Candor Chasma, the subject of EVA 8). Closer in reach, a mountain with beautiful, striking bands of purple and red towered to our right. Squinting, I could even detect a tiny green layer sandwiched in. “That’s where we might find fossils,” I said, pointing. “That’s probably a green shale layer, deposited in a marine environment.” Darrel immediately jumped on this and proposed hiking up to the distant layer. I was a little leery of the steep, muddy slope, but it was just too tempting to pass up!

We scrambled and pawed our way up the flanks of the mountain (later identified as Mount Sagewood). At the top, we picked our way along the green layer’s exposure, conveniently at about hip-height. It topped a series of vivid red and purple bands, and the colors glowed in the noontime sun. We didn’t find any fossils… but may have found traces of endoliths, and the variety and beauty of the sedimentary structures was more than enough satisfaction for me. We then climbed the last 30 feet to the top of the mountain and enjoyed a beautiful panoramic view, with the Hab in the distance to the west, Olympus Mons and Factory Butte jutting up to the northwest, Valles Marineris dropping away to the north, and Candor Chasma floating like a heady mirage of sedimentary nirvana to the east. We oohed and ahhed and took tons of pictures, then carefully descended back down to the ATVs. Our trip back was quick, but very muddy. I waved Mike on to take the lead from Cactus Road home, and he clearly enjoyed racing through the muddy streambed, bouncing off rocks, and racing full-throttle back down Lowell Highway to the Hab.

You can view the full EVA 19 information, including a map.

Amnon Govrin and his sons were just getting ready to leave, so Mike and Darrel ferried them back to Hanksville, and I helped Brian, Luis, and Carla get ready for EVA 20. Their intended destination was the pair of caves that had eluded Luis and Mike on EVA 15. They were equipped this time with a series of GPS waypoints that should have led them straight to Canton Cave. Unfortunately, they got all the way up near the cave, in Serenity Valley, only to find that the road plunged into a deep channel that could not be safely crossed with the ATVs. While they could have walked the last kilometer on foot, they were running out of time. They returned home, even muddier than we had been, disappointed not to have found the cave but still glad to have had one last EVA.

And here’s the full EVA 20 information, including a map.

It’s hit home with all of us that this has been the last day of our Mars mission simulation. Tomorrow will be filled with more cleaning, packing, and getting ready for the Hab handover to Crew 90. I realized that just recently our mode of operations here has really started to feel normal, and that I feel quite at home. Two weeks is just enough time to settle into a good routine, having smoothed out the rough edges. (It hasn’t hurt that Darrel has fixed or upgraded much of the Hab’s functionality during our tenure!) I expect it to be quite jarring to return to “Earth” life. I’ve certainly felt this to be a hugely educational, eye-opening, wonderful, beautiful experience. If what we’ve accomplished and learned can in any way translate into useful knowledge for a real human mission to Mars, I fervently hope that there will be a way for us to share.

Today during our morning planning meeting, we discussed what our remaining goals for the mission would be. Our first week was a constant barrage of learning new procedures (for science investigations adapted to this environment; for keeping ourselves fed, watered, and clean; and for keeping the Hab functioning). Now that we’ve found our legs in those regards, our attention has opened out to thinking more broadly about what we want to accomplish. And now there are just four days left of our mission!

Brian has spent hours learning how his land streamer of seismic geophones works, so that he can deploy it to collect a seismic refraction profile of an intriguing inverted channel. Darrel has struggled to find time to work on his radio-controlled plane, which has a camera and could potentially be used for scouting good locations for on-foot investigations. Luis wants to culture and analyze the biological samples he’s already collected. Carla wants to compile the results of her Mars Dessert Research Station efforts. 😉 I’ve been itching to get out and do some real geology, not just the tourist-geology I’ve accomplished so far (point and gasp and take pictures!). Of us all, Mike may be in the best position, having raised the radio telescope from 10 feet to 20 feet high early in the mission; he’s been happily collecting data ever since.

After much discussion about what our remaining EVAs might focus on, Brian determined that his land streamer deployment likely would require a seriously long (like all day) EVA—or even two such EVAs. He also needed some more time to plan just where and how he would deploy it. So we decided that I would use today to do a two-ish-hour EVA with a geology goal, and Brian will aim to do a seismic EVA tomorrow.

I jumped on the chance immediately. I wanted to find an outcrop and practice measuring a stratigraphic column in Mars-like field conditions (e.g., suit, gloves, helmet, etc.). From our crew’s previous EVA 8 to Candor Chasma, it seemed a likely place to find nice exposed layers. That crew had walked out to the Chasma, but we instead planned to drive up Lowell Highway to Cactus Road, aiming for the “Candor Chasma Access Parking” area, to shorten the trip.

So after lunch, Carla, Mike and I suited up. We exited the airlock at 1:45 p.m. and roared out on our three ATVs onto the “highway”, a moist concoction of snow and mud, but still quite drivable. As commander for the EVA, I led the group, with a mirror strapped to my left forearm so I could glance back and check on Carla and Mike without turning around (which is very difficult in the suits, and would be very unsafe if done while driving). I checked my GPS unit every so often so that I would know when the intersection with Cactus Road was at hand. I’d pre-loaded the GPS not only with our final destination but also with some waypoints compiled into a “route” (my first exercise of this GPS capability). Everything went fine at first—but then we overshot Cactus Road. We turned around and headed back slowly. I could see the waypoint blinking at me on the GPS screen, but we just could not find a road or track of any sort heading east of Lowell, due to thin but obscuring snow cover. After some dithering and scouting expeditions on foot, we gave up on that goal. Instead, I decided that we would head north on Lowell until we found an interesting outcrop and just map that.

As we went north, I was anxious—as commander of the EVA, it was my responsibility to make good use of our time, and I was thrown off by the failure to find Cactus Road. Would we even see anything interesting to the north? I’d been up there before on EVA 5 and only had a dim impression of lots and lots of soft, squishy, muddy Morrison Formation. I wanted solid rock with interesting structure to map.

And then we lucked out! We spotted a low hill topped with some Dakota sandstone to the east of the road. (More accessible than the top of Olympus Mons, too!) We parked the ATVs and headed over on foot. And yes! It was fantastic! (Back at the Hab, we would learn that this site has a name: Lowell North Sedimentary Outcrop. So someone else thought it was worth study, too.) We clambered up to the Dakota layer, and I walked Carla and Mike through the process of identifying layers and noting them down on paper. It definitely was good to have multiple people there. I couldn’t see my own suit well enough even to get the pencil out of my shoulder strap holder. We didn’t have a Jacob staff or Brunton compass, so we made do with a T-square we’d found in the EVA room, which had been augmented with a plumb bob to aid in standing it straight up. We measured 13 distinct layers over 146.5 inches (the entire exposed section) and Carla and Mike took copious pictures to augment my hasty sketches. (Pencil, by the way, is highly superior to ballpoint pen in 36 F weather.) The layers were a combination of fine horizontally bedded sandstone, medium sand layers inclined about 30 degrees, and conglomerate layers with gravel and pebbles. Some of the latter seemed to have some inverse grading (finer grains at the bottom, coarser grains near the top), which can be created by debris (mud) flows, as opposed to deposition from water or air.

We spent a good chunk of time at the outcrop, then toured around it, also noting an impressive cave that sat below our level, under a treacherous overhang composed of the same crumbly/poorly consolidated rocks. We kept our distance from the edge despite its undeniable allure. I found a chunk of gypsum buried in some sand, and we collect a couple of other small samples to bring back to the Hab.

You can view the full EVA 16 information, including a map.

We returned at 4:07 p.m. Now I’m sitting at the work bench, writing reports, and savoring having done some field geology, here at MDRS! I plan to make up a proper section (to scale, with composition, grading, and layering noted) soon… when I can find time. Whee!

We’re planning to play MDRS Clue tonight. Darrel turns out to have some truly impressive artistic skills, and he became enamored of the idea of an MDRS-themed Clue game. So he put together a full game board, with MDRS locations instead of the traditional Clue ones; a set of character cards, based on the six of us and our roles; and a set of weapon cards (hydrochloric acid, horribly polluted GreenHab water, oxygen tank, wrench, rock hammer, and a cool lookin’ rock). The end result is really cool! We’ll leave it here for future crews to enjoy. (See the board below. He drew all the locations from photos of the actual areas and they are very realistic!)

And with that, goodnight!

Edit: You can now watch a video of EVA 14 to Olympus Mons!

After breakfast, we suited up for an expedition to Olympus Mons. Darrel, Mike, and I had previously journeyed to the base of this striking natural feature, but we had had to turn back due to the limited time of our EVA. This time, we planned to ascend to the summit. We left the Hab at 12:41 p.m. and struck off north, squishing through soft snow into the dirt beneath. Olympus Mons rose before us in all its banded, colored glory. We reached the base and began our ascent. Reaching the first level stage up, we paused to take pictures (we could see the Hab clearly) and then began climbing up the steeper slope, digging our feet into the moist dirt to keep our balance. We determined that footing was best on the snowy patches. However, Carla’s knee starting giving her trouble, and she decided to remain behind on that level. We agreed to keep her in visual or radio contact for our ascent. In a real mission setting, I suspect that this would violate protocol, and we would instead leave someone with her so that no one was ever alone (buddy system!).

Darrel, Mike, and I continued upward, climbing over small rocks up a narrow gully. Already the geology was getting more interesting. We transitioned from the red, muddy Morrison layers into the stronger, paler Dakota capping layer. The Morrison formation, while visually arresting in its vivid watercolor paints, provides little in the way of interesting solid rock geology. But the Dakota is another story entirely! It is filled with a wide variety of different consolidated layers, some strongly differentiated in grain size and composition. I spied rock after rock with complex structures that practically shouted for me to sit down and study—view after view into the local history of flowing streams, pebble transport, and shifting watercourses. The final capping layer of Dakota sandstone was eroded in intriguing ways, a series of curves in and out shaped around the embedded pebbles.

It was almost with reluctance that I finally climbed to the top of the ridge, reaching the summit but abandoning the really interesting stuff! But I was rewarded with an incredible view, both to the east across the lower hills and plains, and to the west, all the way to the soaring cliffs of Skyline Ridge. And as we tracked north along the summit of Olympus Mons, a new vista opened at our feet: more hills, cliffs, and all sorts of complexity spreading as far as the eye could see. (Can we claim The Olympus Mountaineering Award now?)

With the summit of Olympus Mons under our belts, we were eager for more. We identified a saddle ridge that connected our current location to next segment of Olympus Mons to the east, and then carefully clambered down to it. We picked our way across the narrow ridge, mindful of the red mud slope to the right and the snowy slide to the left. And on the other side, as we came back up to the Dakota layer again, was a geological bonanza! We were treated to a huge outcrop of conglomerate layers mixed with fine-grained sandstone and, as I peered closer, snapping photo after photo, I found a gorgeous example of cross-bedding! I’d been hoping to find such exposures since my arrival, and here they were in spades! Beautiful!

Darrel and Mike dragged me away back up onto the next ridge portion of Olympus Mons, and we followed it eastward. We walked out onto a couple of southward-jutting promontories before encountering a literally breathtaking sight: the hills to the northeast of Olympus Mons (Pavonis and Arsia Mons) were just stunning, banded in even more vivid reds and purples in their long, inclined slopes. Crowned with snow and splashed with white all down their sides, the contrast only made the colors more of a feast for the visual appetite. I stared out over the expanse of rich desert beauty, panting from exertion and only wishing I could throw off my suit and climb around in the dirt close up.

We traversed the ridge all the way to the east and snapped pictures of each other atop the final rocky promontory. By that point, we’d been out for an hour and decided to head back down, rejoin Carla, and return to the Hab. In addition to the dazzling array of rocks and vistas, we’d also seen quite a variety of different lichens: yellow, orange, blue-gray, and palest green. I radioed back to the Hab to ask if Luis, our Biologist, wanted us to try to collect some samples (despite not having any sample bags), but he suggested we skip it. This turned out to be a good idea later, when we needed all four limbs for our descent.

We headed back west along Olympus Mons, seeking a gully to follow down that would not be too steep (or too muddy) for our use. These were all south-facing slopes, so they were lacking in snow and becoming progressively softer and muddier. We climbed down one level, then followed a twisting drainage gully whose sides steepened as we descended. We had to abandon walking on the patchy snow on the sides of the gully and get down into the wet course itself. We stepped carefully, bracing ourselves on the gully sides, continuing until we reached a dropoff. Here the water must some days pour in a waterfall over a 6 to 8-foot drop. There wasn’t enough flow today for such a sight, but it did present an obstacle to us. Darrel suggested rolling some rocks into the drop to build up enough of a pile to climb down onto—but having grown up in the Canyonlands area, I have a healthy aversion to getting “rimmed out” (descending to a point where you cannot go any further down, then realizing that you can’t get back up either!).

“We shouldn’t go down anything we can’t get back up,” I suggested. Darrel instead found us a way up and over the hill forming the west side of the gully, which was tricky but doable; the final scramble up melting mud posed a brief delay and required some repeated attempts to overcome, but in the end we were victorious! By that point Carla could see us, and we could see her, and we took pictures back and forth as the three of us headed down the final slopes and rejoined her. We continued down to the plain and made the trek back to the Hab, staring into the silvery afternoon sun and pointing at the patches of blue sky that were appearing. The afternoon light grew and grew, lighting up the colors more and more, and I almost couldn’t bear going back into the Hab and leaving them behind; the desert only becomes more beautiful as the day lengthens and dies.

We trooped back in at 2:39 p.m., depressurized in the airlock, and then were pulling off our suits, laughing at our exhaustion and elation. We gathered upstairs to review the (somewhat ridiculous!) volumes of pictures and video we’d collected on the expedition. (You can view the full EVA information, including a map.) Culling through those photos to select the best ones for sharing was quite time-consuming! Also, while listening to the radio data that was recorded while we were out, Mike discovered that he could hear our EVA radio chatter when we passed the radio telescope! Cool, even if it doesn’t amount to a scientific discovery. 🙂

We wrapped up the day with a Jazzercise session, an AlpineAir combo (Sierra Chicken and Pasta with Shrimp and Alfredo Sauce), and now there’s talk of a movie. I feel full to bursting not only with food, but with everything we’ve seen and everywhere we’ve been today. Goodnight!

I really cannot exaggerate the beauty of the surroundings we find ourselves in at the Mars Desert Research Station. I grew up in southeastern Utah, so I might have expected to be inured to it—but really, it is just phenomenal. During yesterday’s EVAs, we got to see a lot of the stunning sights, and local geology, first-hand.

The Hab sits in the Brushy Basin member of the Morrison Formation, from the Jurassic period. These rocks were formed from freshwater lake sediments, with occasional volcanic ash deposits. The colors in the resulting claystone, mudstone, and siltstone are just phenomenal—bands of rich red, cream, brown, yellow, and purple. Atop these bands lies pieces of the Dakota sandstone that you can just make out in the background hills in this picture (click to see larger version).

Yes, that’s snow! We’ve been enjoying simply beautiful weather since we arrived: sunny, clear skies and temperatures in the upper 30’s to low 40’s during the day. The snow fell during the previous crew’s final days and remains on the north-facing slopes. More snow is forecast for tomorrow; I’m hoping it skips us, so that the rocks and formations remain in clear, brilliant view.

Yesterday during EVA #2, we walked north from the Hab across very slippery red mud and clay. Daytime temperatures do get high enough to melt snow on the south-facing slopes, and it runs off the hills, both soaks into the soil and depositing the fine-grained mud layers we were walking on. We left giant bootprints in several areas, and skid marks where it was slipperier than it appeared. We also crossed some cracked mud areas where water had evaporated, and the “popcorn” surface created by smectite (a clay) when it dries out. At left is one of the meandering channels flowing from the foot of the hills out over the muddy plain.

As the sun dropped in the sky, the shadows from every rock and pebble were highlighted, giving dramatic relief to the surface and emphasizing the angularity of the rocks. These rocks mostly come from the overlying Dakota sandstone, which is coarser-grained and more resistant to weathering than the soft mudstone and claystone of the Morrison Formation.

The Dakota sandstone is the remnant of an inland ocean, so it arises from a very different water environment than the Morrison Formation does. We are told that this layer contains regions with coal, petrified wood, and bivalve fossils. We haven’t found these yet, but we hope to explore the Dakota more extensively in a future EVA! To the left is a picture of an outcrop of Dakota from EVA #1 (which explored the region around Phobos Peak). Its greater resistance to weathering is evident in how this large block rests on an undercut layer of Morrison supporting it. And finally, we used the rock hammer to collect a sample of a layered piece of Dakota that may possibly have some endoliths growing on it.

We also reached a large chunk of Dakota sandstone at the base of Olympus Mons during EVA #2 (see right). Although at an entirely different location, it shows the same differential erosion. That’s Crew Astronomer Mike posing in front of the rock in his EVA suit, with our crew 89 patch on his arm. Thanks go to all of our crew for their great EVA work yesterday and the photos and stories they brought back! We’ll have another geology-oriented EVA coming up soon.