Unearthing Ancient Fossils: A Reflection on the Giants in My Life

By Steven Wade Veatch

I remember a scorching summer afternoon in 1992, when, with my new wife Shelly and mother-in-law Karen, I walked on a trail that meandered down the hill known as Cope’s Nipple—named after the 19th-century paleontologist who explored this site for dinosaur bones. People refer to the area as Garden Park, and it is located a few miles north of Cañon City, Colorado. 

With my mother-in-law in tow, I took the lead and attempted to be on my best behavior. She was visiting us from Interlochen, Michigan. As we walked, her presence loomed over me, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch endlessly. The air was heavy with her silent intensity, making the surroundings feel eerily quiet. I imagined a pleasing scent in the air. It reminded me of my mother-in-law's garden in Michigan. This added a mysterious touch to the atmosphere. It felt as if every step we took was heavy, as if her presence alone had a gravitational pull. My thoughts went back and forth between making a good impression on her and conjuring in my mind—since we were walking on a dinosaur graveyard—a spike-tailed Stegosaurus defending himself from an Allosaurus.

Depiction of an Allosaurs prowling about in Garden Park
during the Jurassic Period. AI generated image.

As I walked through this area, memories flooded back from two years before when I had explored it with a friend. As we made our way up a hill on that sunny day my friend and I unexpectedly came across a hilltop ornamented with an abundance of petrified wood. The sight was mesmerizing, with the hill covered in these ancient, hardened remains of trees. The wood appeared as if frozen in time, its intricate patterns and textures on full display. The crisp sound of our footsteps echoed through the stillness of the hilltop, adding an eerie ambiance to the scene. A faint scent of earthiness lingered in the air, reminding us of the long history embedded in these petrified remains. As we gently touched the wood, a cool, smooth sensation greeted our fingertips, connecting us to the past. We were the first ones to see all of this petrified wood. If someone had been there before us, all the wood would probably have been taken.

Shelly and Karen kept up with me as we continued to descend Cope’s Nipple. The scorching sun baked everything in a relentless heat. While we were going down a gentle slope, Shelly and Karen talked about how different this landscape was than the woodlands and humid air of northern Michigan. Shelly vividly recounted to her mother the harrowing encounter she had had a year before, when a venomous rattlesnake unexpectedly lunged at her on an earlier trip here. She urged her mother to remain vigilant and attentive while going down the pathway.

It was the hottest part of the day as we continued to walk along the trail that now cut through a dark-red disintegrated siltstone, part of the world-famous Jurassic-age Morrison Formation. Insects buzzed under an intense Colorado blue sky. A scorpion scurried with a quick dart beneath a cracked slab of siltstone, its jagged edges leaning against a smooth cobble of quartz. Time seemed to slow down in the heat, and seconds lingered in the dry air. 

I had been here in the spring of 1991 with a prospector buddy. On that day, while ascending a ravine, we stumbled upon huge heaps of bentonite clay. It had rained the night before, and the clay had swollen up to five times its normal size. Nodules of a lilac-purple St. Stephen’s agate were bulging out of the swollen, wet clay. I crawled up the side of a clay mound and plucked out one of these agates. As I held it to the sunlight to see the concentric layers inside, I slipped and slid down the slick clay on my backside. Wet, cement-like clay covered my back to my head. There was no way to wash it off, and it was solidifying in the arid air. My wife had a lot to say about this when I returned home. She also wanted to see this place, Garden Park, the next time I went.

Now my adventure with my wife and mother-in-law heated up. The dirt-covered path, lined by piñon pine, was in the middle of a dinosaur graveyard and was under the protection of the Bureau of Land Management—no fossil collecting allowed. I couldn’t imagine dinosaurs once ruled this dry, semi-arid land covered with yucca and cactus. As we walked along the trail Shelly’s voice poked into my consciousness. She had just bent down to pick something up from the side of the path. She was describing it to her mother: “It’s cone-shaped with a subtle curve. It has a pointed end.” She continued, “The other part of this is not pointed. There is a serrated edge.” The word SERRATED thundered across my consciousness. I asked her if I could see it. She handed it to me. I knew at once she had stumbled upon an extraordinary find—a pristine Allosaurus tooth, a relic from a formidable dinosaur that once reigned supreme in Garden Park’s prehistoric ecosystem. The ancient fossil, with its sharp edges and intricate ridges, exuded a sense of raw power. As I held it in my hand, I could feel the weight of its history, imagining the ferocious battles it had fought. The sight of the tooth gleaming in the sunlight transported all of us back to a time when mighty dinosaurs roamed the land. The faint scent of earth and ancient fossils lingered in the air, arousing a sense of awe and excitement. 

It was now time to finish the hike. We left the hotter, drier landscape for a riparian environment. Four Mile Creek greeted us as it sliced its way through a scenic valley adorned with cascading layers of limestone, siltstone, and sandstone. The gentle sound of flowing water filled the air, harmonizing with the rustling of cottonwood leaves along the creek bank. The earthy scent of wet soil along the stream mingled with the refreshing aroma of the nearby vegetation. As we stood there, we couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe and wonder at the natural beauty surrounding us. 

The day changed, it shifted into something new. Shelly’ discovery was important. You don’t find an Allosaurus tooth every day. My mother-in-law had a breakthrough in how she thought about me. She enjoyed our day together and listening to me talking about a vanished ecosystem filled with dinosaurs.

And I discovered how fortunate I was to have these two women in my life.

Rocks in Balance: A Closer Look at the Geological Marvels of Precariously Balanced Rocks

 By Steven Wade Veatch

Balanced Rock, in Colorado Springs’ Garden of the Gods Park, is an example of a type of geologic feature called “precariously balanced rocks,” or PBRs. These interesting rocks are common in the American West, where dry climates preserve them. They are also found worldwide in other climates. 

Figure 1. Balanced Rock is a famous PBR in the Garden of the Gods Park, Colorado Springs, Colorado. The rock appears to defy gravity by balancing on a small base. This rock is an erosional remnant of the Fountain Formation. Photo date 2021 by S. W. Veatch.

PBRs can vary in size from small boulders to massive stone monoliths weighing thousands of pounds—and many are precariously perched on a pedestal. They look like they could topple over in a strong wind. 

People have long been fascinated by PBRs. In the past, certain cultures linked these rocks to spiritual or supernatural realms and used them in religious rituals. Balanced rocks also held spiritual significance in Native American culture as markers for guiding mystical journeys. They were also used by early Anglo settlers as they made their way to new homes in the west. In addition to their spiritual significance, PBRs have become popular tourist attractions, and in many cases are surrounded by parks where tourists come to see these incredible geological wonders and marvel at their implausible balancing acts.

Figure 2. An old postcard view of graffiti-covered Balance Rock, Pittsfield, Berkshire County, Massachusetts. A creation of the last glacial era, this 25 x 15 x 10-foot boulder balances on a small rock below it. Postcard circa 1902. From the collection of S. W. Veatch.

Figure 3. Big Balanced Rock Near Douglas, Arizona. Postcard circa 1948.
From the collection of S. W. Veatch.

Figure 4. Balance Rock, Idaho. Postcard circa 1940s. From the collection of S. W. Veatch.

Figure 5. An old postcard view of the mushroom-shaped “Seat of Pluto” rock formation in the Red Rocks Park, Morrison, Colorado. Postcard circa 1912. From the collection of S. W. Veatch.

Figure 6. An old postcard view of Balance Rock, Camden, Maine. This glacial erratic is located on Fernald's Neck peninsula near Lake Megunticook. Postcard circa 1910s.
From the collection of S. W. Veatch.

PBRs are formed in several ways. Some PBRs result from weathering and erosion. When water percolates through fractures in rock, those fractures can grow and ultimately break the larger rocks into several smaller pieces. Over thousands of years, as erosion lowers the ground level, the rocks are exposed at the surface, and are frequently stacked on top of one another. Weathering and erosion of the exposed rock by wind, rain, and relentless cycles of freezing and thawing removes rock material around the balanced rock, leaving the harder rock behind. Over time, a rock pedestal is formed as the softer material erodes away, leaving only a small base of support protected by the more resistant rock. 

Figure 7. A sandstone PBR at Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Photo date 2020 by L. Canini.

Figure 8. A sandstone PBR at Red Rocks Open Space, Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Photo date 2020 by L. Canini.

Figure 9. A sandstone PBR at Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Photo date 2020 by L. Canini.

Figure 10. A sandstone PBR at Palmer Park, Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Photo date 2020 by L. Canini.

A glacier can create a PBR when it snatches up a boulder and carries it away in the moving ice. When the glacier melts, it drops the entrained boulder onto its new location (see fig. 2, 6, and 15). Glacial meltwater then removes the softer till and outwash, leaving larger rocks (erratics) perched on smaller rocks. Gravity is another way of creating a PBR when it pulls a larger rock down a slope that comes to rest precariously on another rock or rocks (figure 11). 

Figure 11. A PBR in Mount Manitou Park, Colorado. A large boulder of Pikes Peak Granite has moved downhill and rests on a smaller boulder. Postcard circa 1912 from the collection of S. W. Veatch.

Figure 12. A granite PBR. Devils Head area, part of the Rampart Range
of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Photo date 2020 by L. Canini.

Figure 13. A PBR perched on granite at the Lake George Community Park, Lake George, Colorado. Photo date 2020 by L. Canini.

Figure 14. This PBR is made of an egg-shaped piece of Pikes Peak Granite and is located on Ute Lakes Fishing Club property, about 6 miles north of Divide, Colorado. The 1.08-billion-year-old Pikes Peak Granite often forms rounded and even dome-shaped structures as it erodes. This is due to three main factors: ice, water, and the release of pressure from the overburden. Photo date 2020 by S. W. Veatch.

Figure 15. A balanced rock on Azure Mountain in the Adirondacks. This glacial erratic was set in this precarious position by a continental ice sheet about 19,000 to 14,000 years ago as the ice gradually melted. Photo USGS, Public Domain.

PBRs are not only fascinating sights, but by remaining balanced, reveal a lack of regional seismic activity from the past (Rood, et al., 2020). These balanced rocks also indicate the maximum intensity of past earthquakes (Brune, 1996; Imbler, 2020). By collecting data on PBRs, seismologists examine uniquely valuable data on the rates of rare, large-magnitude earthquakes. 

Over time, erosion, weight changes, or earthquakes will cause PBRs to topple. Tragically, acts of vandalism can destroy PBRs, as seen in 2012 when a scout leader and a friend pushed over a small PBR in Goblin Valley State Park in Utah (Botelho and Watkins, 2014). 

Figure 16. A PBR stands as a lonely sentinel in Arches National Park, Utah.
Photo date 2013 by S. W. Veatch.

PBRs show the power of nature and add to the incredible beauty that is found in the natural world. These rocks are a reminder that the forces of nature can transform even the most stable objects. Whether seen as cultural artifacts, geological curiosities, or sources of seismic information, precariously balanced rocks never fail to fascinate and inspire awe. 

Acknowledgments

The author greatly appreciates the help of Laura Canini of the Colorado Springs Mineralogical Society, who provided interesting discussions and photos of Colorado PBRs. 

References and Further Reading

Botelho, G. and Watkins,T., 2014, Ex-Boy Scout leaders involved in pushing over ancient Utah boulder charged. Retrieved from CNN https://www.cnn.com/2014/01/31/us/utah-boulder-boy-scouts/index.html on January 29, 2023.

Brune, J. N. 1996, Precariously balanced rocks and ground-motion maps for Southern California. Bulletin of the Seismological Society of America, 86 (1A): 43–54. 

Imbler, S, 2020, Why Scientists Fall for Precariously Balanced Rocks, Atlas Obscura, January 9, 2020, Retrieved from https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/precariously-balanced-rocks?fbclid=IwAR2DS3LCMGd0xYlw9OXG3lgCDeLtgWNgpTA2Er7tnNzEompibGCbnXNlHN0 on October 1, 2022.

Rood, A.H., Rood, D.H., Stirling, M.W., Madugo, C.M., Abrahamson, N.A., Wilcken, K.M., Gonzalez, T., Kottke, A., Whittaker, A.C., Page, W.D. and Stafford, P.J., 2020, Earthquake Hazard Uncertainties Improved Using Precariously Balanced Rocks. American Geophysical Union Advances, 1: e2020AV000182. Retrieved from: https://doi.org/10.1029/2020AV000182 on 10/01/2022.

Pieplant: A Taylor Park Mining Camp

 By Steven W. Veatch

The story of the Pieplant mining camp, in Taylor Park, begins with the Ute people who hunted and roamed this land of dense forests, rushing streams, and imposing mountains. During the summer of 1860, a prospector by the name of Jim Taylor was rounding up stray horses when he rode into this remote region. The area soon became known as Jim Taylor's Park, then as Taylor Park. With the discovery of gold in 1867, placer mining began to appear (Parker, 1992). 

Figure 1. Taylor Park Reservoir is a 2000 surface acre reservoir located 29 miles northeast of Gunnison. Photo date 7/2020 by S. Veatch.

The directions to Pieplant are easy: from the north end of Taylor Park Reservoir, head north several miles on road 742. Watch for a forest road on the right-hand side. There is a sign pointing to the town/mill site. Turn right and follow this dirt road for about four miles to a clearing where several old log cabins mark the little settlement of Pieplant. 

Miners built the town beside a wide meadow near Pieplant Creek, below the summit of Jenkins Mountain (13,432 feet). Both the town and creek were named for the clumps of rhubarb (pieplant) growing wild along the banks of the creek. Pieplant Creek flows southwest from Jenkins Mountain and ranges from less than one foot to seven feet across.

Prospectors worked gold placers along Pieplant Creek as early as the 1890s. These placers did not produce much gold. Miners later established the mining camp of  Pieplant around the turn of the 20th century (Vandenbusche, 1980). Over forty men worked at the Pieplant mine, which was about a mile away from the settlement (Vandenbusche, 1980). 

By 1903, Pieplant had 100 residents, a post office, and a stamp mill (Vandenbusche, 1980). Four-horse teams hauled ore in wagons down a steep road on Jenkins Mountain to the mill (Wolle, 1962). The mill, built by Wood's Mining and Milling Company of Kansas, handled 200 tons of ore each day from the Pieplant and other area mines (Pieplant, n.d., Eberhart,1969). The mill was 280 feet long and 110 feet wide, and employed 50 men (Vandenbusche, 1980). Day (1906) mentions that gold bullion was shipped from Pieplant’s “cyanide plant” in 1905.

 

A newspaper article from the Turret Gold Belt (1905) describes some of the excitement of the mining camp:

"Just a year ago (1904) the Burton brothers of Virginia sold to John Lynch of this city [Turret] and J. W. Harrison, a capitalist of St. Louis, a group of four claims known as the Clinton group and which adjoins the property of the Woods Gold Mining company at Pieplant. The consideration of the sale was $16,000, and the claims are practically undeveloped. That the judgement of the purchasers was good has now been proven, as their tunnel a few days ago cut a lead [vein] which is fourteen feet between walls and from which highly satisfactory assays have been had. The average of the entire lead is good, and a portion of the vein carries gold and copper to the value of $120 per ton, while picked samples run way up into the hundreds. As soon as the assay certificates were received Mr. Lynch started at once for the East, where a plan of development will be decided upon. . . .While this district is rich in minerals lack of transportation has held it back for a number of years."

According to the Twin Lakes Miner (1906), J.W. and M.H. Woods had driven a 1,700-foot tunnel that ran along a gold vein for 1,300 feet. The best gold values, according to the article, were ahead of the tunnel where the “ore shoot widened to 4 to 7 feet in width.”

The town began to decline after 1908 as the veins thinned out and transportation costs exceeded profits from mining (Pieplant Mill, nd). Soon after 1910, Pieplant was abandoned and cows grazed there. A few of the log cabins (figures 2 and 3), the collapsed ruins of the Pieplant mine, and part of the mill building (figure 4) remain today—reminders of the early mining operations that occurred there.

Figure 2. In 2006, the Forest Service and Passport in Time put a new roof on this Pieplant cabin in their preservation efforts. Photo date 7/2020 by S. Veatch.

Figure 3. A Pieplant miner’s cabin along a meadow. The long poles supported a porch roof. Photo date 7/2020 by S. Veatch.

Figure 4. View of Pieplant mill ruins. The Pieplant mine is located about one mile north of the mill on Jenkins Mountain. Photo date 7/2020 by S. Veatch.

Pieplant is located on the western flank of the Sawatch Mountains, below Jenkins Mountain. Grizzly Peak (13,281 feet) is to the east. Locally, Paleozoic sediments mask folded and faulted Precambrian rocks. The area experienced uplift, folding, and thrust faulting during the Laramide Orogeny. Sometime in the Miocene Epoch crustal movement began again, resulting in a series of faults. 

During the Pleistocene Epoch, ice was the last major geologic agent to shape the area. Alpine glaciers moved down the mountains—carving preexisting fluvial erosional valleys into distinctive U-shapes or filling them with unsorted glacial till. 

Gravity and alluvial processes concentrated native gold in local placer deposits (Parker, 1974). The gold, hosted in Quaternary alluvium, appears as wires, small flakes, and as sporadic small nuggets (Parker, 1992). Early miners in the area worked Pieplant Creek gold placers below 9,850 feet in elevation (Parker, 1992). Despite careful prospecting, the source of the placer gold has never been discovered.

However, other minerals besides gold and black sand (magnetite) are found in the area. Pan concentrates yield columbite-tantalite, the ore of tantalum (Parker, 1992). This black mineral is not magnetic and is the principal ore of tantalum (Ta), a rare metallic element discovered in 1802 by a Swedish chemist, A.G. Ekeberg. The hard, malleable blue-gray metal has several industrial uses. 

Monazite, a slightly radioactive mineral, shows up as blackish to greenish grains in gold pans (Parker, 1992). Monazite is the primary ore of the rare earth metals cerium and lanthanum. These metals have multiple industrial uses. Because of monazite’s high density (specific gravity is 4.6 to 5.7), monazite grains, along with the gold, collected into placer deposits. Other heavy minerals that appear in pan concentrates are zircon and garnets (Parker, 1992). The sources of the heavy minerals are local granites and pegmatites (Parker, 1992).

Today Pieplant is a quiet place where a few cabins and structures remain near the edge of an open meadow. Pieplant Creek, which flows nearby, is still a good place to search for flakes of gold, especially in ravines and outwash terraces, on slopes, and in gulches.

References and Further Reading:

Day, D. T., 1906, Mineral Resources of the United States Calendar Year 1905: Washington, Department of the Interior, United States Geological Survey.

Eberhart, P., 1969, Guide to the Colorado Ghost Towns and Mining Camps: Chicago, Sage Books.

Parker, B. H., Jr. 1974, Gold placers of Colorado: Colorado School of Mines Quarterly, Vol. 69, No. 3.

Parker, B.H. Jr., 1992, Gold Panning and Placering in Colorado: Denver, CO Information Series 33. Colorado Geological Survey.

Pieplant Mill. Retrieved from https://www.fs.usda.gov/detail/gmug/landmanagement/resourcemanagement/?cid=stelprdb5432060/ on July 12, 2020.

Turrett Gold Belt, 1905, Taylor Park Producers: Turrett Gold Belt, November 1, 1905, p.1, c. 3.

Twin Lakes Miner, 1906, Good News for Pieplant Gulch: Twin Lakes Miner, Aug. 11, 1906, p. 1, c. 3.

Vandenbusche, D. 1980, The Gunnison Country: Gunnison, B&B Printers.

Wolle, M.S., 1962, Stampede to Timberline: The Ghost Towns and Mining Camps of Colorado: Denver, Sage Books.

 

 

A GRANITE BOULDER TAKES A RIDE IN UTE PASS

 By Steven Wade Veatch

With the suddenness of a rattlesnake’s strike, an enormous boulder of Pikes Peak Granite moved down one of the steep slopes of the lower part of Ute Pass, Colorado. As this rock—larger than a yellow school bus—traveled down the hill, it flattened the bushes growing in front of it, and left a trail of scraped ground behind it.

Figure 1. Gravity’s relentless force pulled this huge boulder
down the hill to its resting place near US Highway 24
between mile marker 295 and 296. This is a geohazard.
Photo © S. Veatch.

This giant rock, perched on a slope in Ute Pass along US Highway 24— between Manitou Springs and Green Mountain Falls—moved downslope from the pull of gravity in a type of erosion called mass wasting. When combined with the water of winter snow melt or rain that alters ground conditions, gravity can move rocks downhill—the steeper the slope, the faster the rocks and boulders move (McGeary, Brown, & Plummer, 1992).

During a recent summer, thunderstorms poured rain on the pass.  The slope where this boulder rested was saturated with water, making the ground a muddy, slippery mess. As the rain soaked into the soil, it filled pore spaces, which pushed apart individual grains in the soil—decreasing the resistance of the boulder to movement (Murck, Skinner, & Porter, 1997). Also, some of the grass was washed away by rivulets and rills running downslope, also adding to the conditions that mobilized the boulder.

One night when it was quiet, except for the rasp of a cricket and the passing of an occasional car on the highway, the force of gravity became greater than the resistance of the ground holding the immense boulder in place. Catching the sleeping birds in the pine trees off guard, the giant rock yielded to the endless pull of gravity and slid down the slope—a geological event that starts within the blink of an eye.

Figure 2. A once moving boulder left behind a trail and pushed up
loose gravel in front of it as it slid down the slope of Ute Pass.
Photo © S. Veatch.

This rapid movement of rocks is a geohazard that develops over time and locally impacts Ute Pass and Manitou Springs. Ute Pass and Manitou Springs are in the path of sliding and falling rocks. Work is ongoing to mitigate some of these hazards. Travelers going through Ute Pass not only have to watch other drivers, but must also look out for moving boulders.

References
McGeary, D., Brown, W. C., & Plummer, C. C. (1992). Physical Science: Earth Revealed. Dubuque: William C. Brown.

Murck, B. W., Skinner, B. J., & Porter, S. C. (1997). Dangerous Earth: An Introduction to Geologic Hazards. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.