By:
Chief Scientist, Bramley Murton.
The week-end has been dogged by lumpy
weather. A nasty storm cyclone has hit us and we have had to run away, 200
miles to the North. The storm is unusual for this time of year, and is
exceptionally deep. It has tracked from the west right across the Rio Grande
Rise, lashing the ship and stopping science. Luckily we recovered all our gear
before it hit.
A
nasty wee storm finds us and sends us packing for the weekend.
The Autosub6000
being recovered after its second mission over the Rio Grande Rise.
Just after recovery, within a couple of
hours, the sea picked up and we decided to postpone the next HyBIS dive. This
was a pity as we have made some interesting discoveries on the last dive.
However, without the heave compensation working on our main winch, we can’t use
HyBIS in heavy seas as it is too hard to control. The break will give the HyBIS
team time to make some minor adjustments to the motors and lights to optimize
the next dive after the storm passes.
The
sea get a wee bit lumpy shortly after recovering the Autosub6000.
The last HyBIS dive was made over the
southwestern side of the Great Rift. Here we started at the top edge of the
scarp and made our way slowly down a few terraces. The sight was amazing:
ferromanganse crusts were there, as we predicted, but they have a polygonal
pattern on the surface, resembling a large honeycomb. Closer inspection shows
the crusts are being eroded by patches of sand in the centre of the polygons
leaving them to resemble cracked dried mud.
Polygonal
pattern to ferromanganese crusts covering lavas on the edge of the Great Rift.
Further down the slope we found lavas
exposed. These were also polytonally jointed. The jointing on the lava surface
turns into vertical joints (cracks) underneath, forming columns. This type of
structure is well known in lava flows from land – a classic example is the
Giant’s Causeway in County Antrim, Ireland. The difference here is that the lavas
we are looking at are 900m below sea-level, yet they look like subaerial eruptions.
In contrast, submarine lavas form distinctive pillow shapes. This is because
the water quenches the lava and forms a skin, like an amniotic sack, that
stretches as the lava fills it until it forms a bulbous shape. Where we get sheet
flows on the seafloor, they rarely, if ever, form columnar jointing. Is this
evidence that we are looking at eruptions on the Rio Grande Rise when it was an
island?
Columnar-jointed
lavas on the edge of the Great Rift, Rio Grande Rise.
The
vertical face of the scarp exposing the lava flow. The scarps is 30m high and
forms the edge of the Great Rift.
Red clay and mud
underneath the columnar jointed lava, and on top of another lava flow, 900
metres below sea level.
Our suspicions were confirmed at the bottom
of the terrace where the columnar-jointed lava gave way to an underlying bed of
red clay. The clay deposit merged into the top of another lava flow beneath the
first. Geologists recognize this mud as a bole, the top of a lava flow that has
been weathered by sub-tropical and humid conditions, oxidizing the lava and
turning its iron content red, and turning the rock into clay minerals. This is
in effect an ancient soil, or as we call it, a palaeosoil. Millions of years
ago, volcanoes erupted lavas on the Rio Grande Rise when it was an island. Sun
and rain eroded the top and transformed it into soil. Plants probably grew in
the sunlight and who knows what animals grazed on them. Then, after thousands
of years, the volcanoes erupted again and buried the landscape in another flow
of white-hot lava and everything was incinerated. As it cooled, the lava
contracted forming the columnar jointing we see today. This was probably
followed by further cycles of weathering, soil formation, plants growing,
animals grazing, lava eruptions and incineration. We are just seeing a snap
shot in the eons of time that have formed the Rio Grande Rise when it was the
equivalent of a sub-tropical Iceland, and long before it was drowned and
submerged beneath the South Atlantic.
Back up on the top of the scarp we see the
lavas give way to a sediment-covered flat seafloor strewn with large rounded
boulders. These are made of the black lava, but are smooth and round. Only in
areas where there is very high energy can such boulders form. Areas such as the
beds of fast flowing rivers, or on the sea shore where waves can crash and tear
at the cliffs, dislodge chunks of rock and roll them around until they form
smooth and round boulders. Certainly not at the bottom of the ocean, 700m below
sea level, where such waves can’t affect the seafloor. Here the energy is low,
and currents are slow, moving only the smallest of sand grains. Here, then, we
are seeing evidence for the drowning of the Rio Grande Rise, when the sub
aerial lavas became sea cliffs and the waves churned the rocks into a boulder
strewn shore.
Boulders
strewn over the seafloor close to the edge of the Great Rift are evidence that
this was once a sea shore where waves crashed and tore at the cliffs, long ago
as the Rio Grande Rise was drowned.
Further back from the edge of the Great
Rift, the boulders give way to a hard seafloor covered in calcareous sands.
These sands are derived from the skeletal remains of plankton in the overlying
ocean. The sediments are thin, only a few tens of centimeters, and the seafloor
underneath is hard when HyBIS lands to take a scrape. The underlying seabed is
also calcareous, made of crushed carbonate shells forming a sandstone. Was this
once a sandy lagoon behind the cliffs and boulder strewn seashore? Almost a
kilometer back from the edge of the Great Rift we come across an increasing
number of chunks of black ferromanganese crust lying on the white pelagic
sediment. Where have they come from? The
answer lies another 100m west, where we come across a ledge that cuts across
the seascape.
Terrace
with ferromanganese crust on the top overlying a calcareous sandstone.
Only 2 metres tall, the ledge is capped by
20cm thick layer of black crust. Underneath the crusts is the hard calcareous
sandstone seafloor, here eroded and exposing the layers of crushed shelly sand.
The edge of the ledge is undercut and pieces, some a metres across, of the
crust have fallen off or are overhanging the ledge. HyBIS tries to take a
sample, but it is too big. Eventually we get a couple of pieces that fill the
basket. Another beach terrace? Perhaps, but this one has been cemented and
covered by the ferromanganese crust that we are searching for. We know that the
crusts grow at about 1 to 3 mm per million years, so again, we are confronted
by a scene that has been frozen in time for tens of millions of years; a fossil
shore line from the distant past, now drowned and lost beneath the stormy South
Atlantic ocean.