I
You sit across the table from one another, you and Natalie. Her offering is a closely argued document called “Relationship of mafic rocks and surrounding rocks in the inferred subduction complex, Batemans Bay district, south-eastern NSW”. In front of you is a small black notebook, with the hopeful heading Geology 2017. You are here to negotiate understanding, you a novice geologist with serious limitations, her a university student offering her honours thesis. You feel blessed to have found her. She writes about a place you’ve visited, and she draws detailed diagrams of different formations, which is the next best thing to her actually standing on a rock, pointing at it, and saying “This is the Bogolo formation. See here and here and here … these are the characteristics.”
But unfortunately for you, she uses words as well as diagrams, lots of them. Her lexicon is as dense as gabbro. One sentence might offer you “shear zone thickening”, “olistrostomal flows” and “disrupted bedding”, leaving you with very little to hang understanding on. Simple pronouns lack meaning as you fail to understand their antecedents. Even a phrase like “migration of faults” where you know the meaning of the words in isolation raises questions about what exactly they mean here. However, she’s done her bit, so she leaves you to it.
You struggle on because you really want to know. You think about yourself as a learner: that urge to go and do something else – knit, cook, even housework – rather than battle on through the hard bit. “Geology for dummies” doesn’t always provide the desired definition.
It’s a long long time since you’ve done such intellectual battle. You mainly read history where the discourse and language is familiar. Even an occasional foray into the world of Nabokov’s butterflies or Gawande’s history of cancer doesn’t make this kind of stringent demand. There, if you don’t understand you can skim over the hard bit without missing too much. Rocks and their foundation stories make no such concessions. If you want to understand you have to persist and hope that eventually you’ll get it.
II
The Bogolo formation is more than 90% mudstone. Long, long, long ago very fine clay particles settled at the bottom of the ocean or a lake or a lagoon or a peaceful stretch of river. Slowly the resulting mud was buried and compressed by the weight of more sediment. The water squeezed out and the slurry became rock. But the Bogolo Formation isn’t just mudstone: it’s a mélange, including fragments and blocks of sandstone and basalt with a diameter somewhere between a centimetre and twenty metres in an unsorted mishmash. As a sedimentary rock it should be layered, but it isn’t, not systematically. It’s been knocked about in its formation. Geologists can’t agree on how. Caught up in a monstrous flow of debris? Crunched up in a fault system? A casualty of huge mud volcanoes? It hasn’t had an easy time of it, whichever explanation you go with.
III
It’s a glorious spring day as I walk down the spur to Bogola Headland, Gulaga looming a few paddocks away on my right and the sea sprawling and sparkling on my left. Surely this is where I’ll find laid out before me the Bogolo Formation Natalie has introduced me to and that I’ve read so much about. I round the corner and step onto a rock platform. It’s flat, unbroken by the fissures or the sharp edges that usually make rock hopping a business of intense concentration. I stroll over the surface, mostly level, no need to grapple with foot-eye coordination, except occasionally where a boot-sized hunk extrudes. The rock, grey-ochre, silver, purple, copper-streaked, with occasional constellations of white specks, has an almost talc-like smoothness and occasional stripes. I reach my hand down and stroke the silkiness and the slightly rougher streaks. Small nodules / excrescences in the vertical surface take the shape of coronet, braid, necklace. Near the ocean, lumps become pinnacular, sharp edged, huge. It’s easy to look and describe: I’m quite at home with rock patterns, the sun and the sea.
This is so well-done, Meg. I admit I had to look up a “braided essay” before I read this, so I would understand the form you were creating. I love your eagerness to learn geology — understanding the drawings but getting lost and overwhelmed by the lexicon. You have your lesson, directly with Natalie, instructive but dense; I love your reference to “Geology for Dummies.” That would be me. Then you weave in the history of the Bogolo formation, in language that we lay readers can understand, or at least have a glimmer of understanding. Finally, you weave your walk to the Bogala headland, where you bring your wonderful powers of observation to us, with all its beautifully poetic description. It is a wonderful braid of many parts, each one of which informs and enriches the whole. I love it! And the photos are wonderful as well. You truly are a gifted writer. 🙂
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I left before commenting on this post the other day, but I read every knowledgeable word! I’m sure I’ve said before that I totally admire you for talking on this intellectual challenge, it’s way beyond me, I have a hunger for lighter learning. I do find geology fascinating though, so keep doing what you’re doing so wonderfully x:-)x
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Thank you for this. I don’t know how knowledgeable the words are, but they’re a bit more so than they would’ve been once, and getting it wrong is often on the path to getting it right! At least so I tell myself. J’s my inspiration – as a young man his ambition was to know everything about everything. He’s been working on it all his life and it’s intellectually energising to be around him.
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My dear Meg
I just read Bogolo, giving it the time and attention it deserves. This is a fine piece of work, with its clear, sheer sections.
You have done well with it – are you happy?
Would you include a post part 1 reference to the words and phrases your expert used, in pieces of rock that you hVe identified?
Love the description of the rocks as ‘silky’. Reminds me of Aland, where we were admonished to remove our shoes to fully experience the ‘soft rocks’ – and they were, but silky may be better, smoothed and softened by the stroking, pounding sea.
Ax
Sent from my iPad
>
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Thank you. I think I’m happy. I gnawed away at it for two months – slowed down without your presence. I thought of referencing in the descriptive bit (is that what you mean?), but I tried to do it descriptively. I’ll have another look and see if it worked for me! I love the idea of taking off shoes to experience rocks.
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Bravo. You describe so well how niche use of words can totally flummox an outsider to that particular specialty — as you say, we know each word, but cannot, in this context put them together. But your perseverance paid off, didn’t it! Now you visit that site, and “read” it so much more intensely. (Which, I’m so happy to see, does not prevent your continuing to take simple visual pleasure in the beauty of it all.)
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You understand so well, both my comprehension dilemma, and the benefit of knowing a bit. Simple visual pleasure is my respite!
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Jo is spot on. I don’t even begin to understand what I am looking at when I photograph the rocks here in Cornwall, I just know that I like the swirls and the stripes and the colours and the textures and that one beach’s rocks doesn’t necessarily look like the next one and that never in a million years will I understand how all this beauty came to pass. Only that it did. And that I am just a tiny speck in time.
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Never in 500 000 000 years! You describe our place in the universe beautifully
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You’ve perfectly described how it feels and how it goes when you don’t understand something from the beginning. I admire that you’re learning geology and that you’ve engaged a student to assist. What a great idea. But like Jo, I love your descriptions. X
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Don’t I wish! Natalie lives for me only in the pages of her thesis. I was taking literary liberties. We do think about employing an expert for a few beach walks, but we don’t want to waste him / her, always supposing we find someone willing.
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Ah, Meg, I love your constant craving for learning and understanding…alas, I am no longer willing to apply such rigorous discipline myself!
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I wouldn’t be doing it without the enthusiasm and greater understanding of J. But I have always wanted to know.
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I do much prefer your descriptions to Natalie’s. 🙂 I don’t feel your tortured need to understand. It’s enough for me that continents have swirled about, lava has flown, that whole crazy maelstrom that we call the earth! It’s far beyond my understanding, but I do like to caress rocks, and I love reading about it with you.
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Sometimes I wish I could return to caressing rocks only. It’s far beyond my understanding too.
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