Scotch on the Rocks: Geology as never before....

BERTIE'S OCCASIONAL SCIENCE LECTURE SERIES CONTINUES...


The scene: It is late in the evening in the bar of an old Highland Hotel. About thirty dogs, mostly rather bedraggled, are variously slumped over the furniture, surreptitiously chewing the tartan rugs, or comforting themselves by licking their private parts....A few still have the energy to chase up and down the corridor or jump up at the antlers hung just out of reach on the old stone wall. Empty whisky glasses are strewn about the room.

Bertie speaks:

OK guys, listen up!

Well I know I said no alcohol on this trip but I certainly needed that wee dram, and I expect you all did too. What a day! The combination of Uncle Eric's unique driving style and our Highland roads has been, I must say, a little trying on the nerves. Even the Road Dogs, I noticed, found the ride tough going. The fact that the rear axle buckled after we loaded George's mysteriously heavy suitcase on to the minibus did not help, indeed. And it really was the last straw when Eric attempted that short cut across the bog. Auntie Martha, what were you thinking of? Why ever did you not stop him? After all, you are supposed to be familiar with this terrain. Surely you could have foreseen that our vehicle would get stuck. How fortunate that it was only a five mile walk on to the hotel, and the torrential rain stopped after the first four and three quarter miles. And I think that a valuable lesson has been learned, about the importance of wearing clothing that is weatherproof rather than stylish on a trip like this. I bet you felt all cosy in those fishermens' sweaters, didn't you, Jake and Just Harry. Yes, do feel free to have a little gloat at Lacie. That see-through and skimpy so-called 'rainwear' was not really suitable at all, was it my dear?  Perhaps you will warm up, and dry out your purple kiltie, if you sit closer to the fire. 

But let's looks on the bright side, we all arrived here in one piece didn't we? Oh, apart from Mango, who apparently missed his plane due to his idle Mom. And OK, yes, I did insist that we leave Stella behind at Inverness Airport. I really don't think I had any choice. Perhaps, when she hears about what a fantastic day we had, she will begin to regret throwing such a tantrum, simply because I refused to supply her with her very own special woolly blanket for the journey...

Just a shame that we did not have time for the boat trip out to the Isle of Muck. Don't worry Kira, I am sure your sailing skills will come in handy at some future date. 

Now before we all turn in for the night, I want us to review what happened out in the field today, to consolidate our knowledge of the local geology and to try and avoid future mishaps.

Archie!  Please be quiet on that d**d instrument. One might think that an elephant is being tortured. Yes we did appreciate the Beatles medley on the accordion while driving up here. Although the Rolling Stones might have been more apt. Who knew that the Fab Four wrote so many songs relevant to dogs?  But anyway, after 'I Want to Chew Your Hand', 'She's Leaving Bones', 'A Hard Dog's Night', 'We Can Walk It out', 'Yelp', 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Bark Club Hound' and 'Let it Pee'*, I think we have all had quite enough music for today. There is a time and a place for bagpipe playing, the time being NOT NOW and the place being up a remote glen at least ten miles from the nearest human or canine habitation. 

Now where were we? Ah yes, who can remember what we saw at the first stop?

Yes, Jake and Fergi, very good, it was Lewisian gneiss, of Precambrian age. Tell, you just stay here and listen! You too Auntie Bailey! No running off please. And do sit still and pay attention Maisie. 

Now perhaps Jazzi, when she has finished chomping on that last taco, can tell us some facts about about the gneiss. 

That's right Jazzi! It's the oldest rock round here and sometimes it is indeed a pretty pink swirly pattern, toning just nicely with your backpack.

Now class, it can be difficult to imagine quite how old these rocks really are. If you have been reading Jazzi's blog lately, you will have learned that many of us have Mums (or Moms) that are older than dirt. Well. If you add up all their ages, in human years, and then multiply the total by about ten million, then that is about the age of the Lewisian. 

Ludo? You are saying your Mum is not old at all? I do apologize. Think of her then as the Quaternary of the blogging Mums. (Gail by comparison, is Archaean). 

What else did we learn today about gneiss? Yes little Toby, it is an acid rock, excellent, what a smart wee chappie you are! OK, OK, OK, don't get all het up, not so wee, you're quite right, bigger than me now in fact? Haven't you grown fast.

The soil on top of acidic rocks tends to be peaty and boggy, as you would all have been aware, had you done your pre-class reading. What a pity that Uncle Eric is not a more diligent student.

OK. Moving on. Can anyone tell me what lies on top of the Lewisian gneiss?

What's that, Carrleigh, Lilly? Oh that is so not funny. The answer I am looking for is 'the Torridonian Sandstone' not 'our minibus'.

After the Torridonian comes the Cambrian Quartzite.  This is easily recognised by dogs as it breaks up to form sharp shards, which are very painful on the paws.

Dozer, please stop yawning over there. I am not being boring. Riley, what do you mean 'I came all this way for this?'

Ludo, please stop sulking. I am most certainly not going to pay for a taxi so that your friend Stella can rejoin us. 

Well alright, I admit it has been rather a long day. I think perhaps we are ready to turn in.

So good night all. Goodnight!

The dogs start to drift upstairs. 

Now George, please can I help you carry that suitcase up to your room? Oh, wait a minute, Katie, perhaps you would like to join George and I upstairs for an, er, extra tutorial? With refreshments! And we can teach you some structural geology. About how 'after the thrust comes the nappe' and so on.....Oh yes, and that's a very good idea George, let's ask Fergi too. (Yes, I have seen those cute photos of her in her jammies......)

Oh, and one final thing before you all disappear. It's an early start tomorrow morning. I want all the big dogs (Monty, Molly, Baby Rocket Dog, Kira, that means you, oh and OK, you too Toby) to be ready to show me you really are as good at digging as you claimed on your application forms. And please, if Mango turns up, nobody, and I mean NOBODY, is to laugh at his purple 'manbag' until after he has helped us. After all, unless we can haul our bus from out of that bog, we may never be going home.....

*Thanks to Marie-Therese and her family for the new song titles. And apologies to the Beatles.