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Imaggeo on Mondays: The best of imaggeo in 2017

Imaggeo on Mondays: The best of imaggeo in 2017

Imaggeo, our open access image repository, is packed with beautiful images showcasing the best of the Earth, space and planetary sciences. Throughout the year we use the photographs submitted to the repository to illustrate our social media and blog posts.

For the past few years we’ve celebrated the end of the year by rounding-up some of the best Imaggeo images. But it’s no easy task to pick which of the featured images are the best! Instead, we turned the job over to you!  We compiled a Facebook album which included all the images we’ve used  as header images across our social media channels and on Imaggeo on Mondays blog post in 2017 an asked you to vote for your favourites.

Today’s blog post rounds-up the best 12 images of Imaggeo in 2017, as chosen by you, our readers.

Of course, these are only a few of the very special images we highlighted in 2017, but take a look at our image repository, Imaggeo, for many other spectacular geo-themed pictures, including the winning images of the 2017 Photo Contest. The competition will be running again this year, so if you’ve got a flare for photography or have managed to capture a unique field work moment, consider uploading your images to Imaggeo and entering the 2018 Photo Contest.

Alpine massifs above low level haze . Credit: Hans Volkert (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu).

The forward scattering of sunlight, which is caused by a large number of aerosol particles (moist haze) in Alpine valleys, gives the mountain massifs a rather plastic appearance. The hazy area in the foreground lies above the Koenigsee lake; behind it the Watzmann, Hochkalter, Loferer Steinberge and Wilder Kaiser massifs loom up behind one other to the right of the centre line. Behind them is the wide Inn valley, which extends right across the picture.

A lava layer cake flowing . Credit: Timothée Duguet (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu)

Check out a post from back in May to discover how layers of alternating black lavas and red soils built up to form a giant ‘mille feuilles’ cake at Hengifoss, Iceland’s third-highest waterfall.

Sediment makes the colour . Credit: Eva P.S. Eibl (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu)

Earth is spectacularly beautiful, especially when seen from a bird’s eye view. This image, of a sweeping pattern made by a river in Iceland is testimony to it. Follow the link to learn more about river Leirá which drains sediment-loaded glacial water from the Myrdalsjökull glacier in Iceland.

Movement of ancient sand . Credit: Elizaveta Kovaleva (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu).

Snippets of our planet’s ancient past are frozen in rocks around the world. By studying the information locked in formations across the globe, geoscientist unpick the history of Earth. The layers in one of the winning images of the 2017 photo contest may seem abstract to the untrained eye, but Elizaveta Kovaleva (a researcher at the University of the Free State in South Africa) describes how they reveal the secrets of ancient winds and past deserts in a blog post we published in November.

View of the Tuva River and central mountain range
. Credit: Lisa-Marie Shillito (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu).

Initially, this photo may seem like any other tropical paradise: lush forests line a meandering river, but there is much more to the forests in the foreground than first meets the eye.

On the way back from Antarctica. Credit: Baptiste Gombert (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu).

Our December 2017 header image – On the way back from Antarctica, by Baptiste Gombert – celebrated #AntarcticaDay.

Angular unconformity. Credit: André Cortesão (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu).

It is not unusual to observe abrupt contacts between two, seemingly, contiguous rock layers, such as the one seen above. This type of contact is called an unconformity and marks two very distinct times periods, where the rocks formed under very different conditions.

Find a new way . Credit: Stefan Winkler (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu)

Stephan Winkler’s 2017 Imaggeo Photo Contest finalist photo showcases an unusual weather phenomenon…find out more about this process in the post from last year.

On the way back from Antarctica. Credit: Alicia Correa Barahona (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu).

August’s social media header image showcases how, in the altiplano of Bolivia, Andean ecosystems, life and the hydrological cycle come together.

Icelandic valley created during a volcanic eruption. Credit: Manuel Queisser (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu).

The image shows a valley in the highland of Iceland carved out during a volcanic eruption with lava coming from the area visible in the upper right corner. The landscape is playing with the viewers sense of relation as there is no reference. The valley is approximately 1 km wide. The lower cascade of the water fall is ca. 30 m high. A person (ca. 3 pixels wide) is located near the base of the water fall about 50 m away. It was our October header image.

Despite being one of the driest regions on Earth, the Atacama desert is no stranger to catastrophic flood events. This post highlights how the sands, clays and muds left behind once the flood waters recede can hold the key to understanding this natural hazard.

The heart of the Canadian Rocky Mountains. Credit: Jennifer Ziesch (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu).

“I saw one of the most beautiful place on earth: The glacially-fed Moraine Lake in the Banff National Park, Canada. The lake is situated in the Valley of the Ten Peaks. The beautiful blue colour is due to the mix of glacier water and rock flour,” says Jennifer, who took the photograph of this tranquil setting.

Symbiosis of fire, ice and water . Credit: Michael Grund (distributed via imaggeo.egu.eu)

This mesmerising photograph is another of the fabulous finalists (and winner) of the 2017 imaggeo photo contest. The picture, which you can learn more about in this blog post, was taken at Storforsen, an impressive rapid in the Pite River in northern Sweden, located close to the site of a temporary seismological recording station which is part of the international ScanArray project. The project focuses on mapping the crustal and mantle structure below Scandinavia using a dense temporary deployment of broadband seismometers.

f you pre-register for the 2018 General Assembly (Vienna, 08 – 13 April), you can take part in our annual photo competition! From 15 January up until 15 February, every participant pre-registered for the General Assembly can submit up three original photos and one moving image related to the Earth, planetary, and space sciences in competition for free registration to next year’s General Assembly!  These can include fantastic field photos, a stunning shot of your favourite thin section, what you’ve captured out on holiday or under the electron microscope – if it’s geoscientific, it fits the bill. Find out more about how to take part at http://imaggeo.egu.eu/photo-contest/information/.

Imaggeo on Mondays: Smoking mountain top

Imaggeo on Mondays: Smoking mountain top

Japan’s northernmost, second largest and least developed island, Hokkaido, is famous for its unspoilt nature. Harsh, cold and snowy winters make way for pleasant summers, which allow tourists and locals to enjoy a variety of outdoor activities, year-round, in the island’s six protected areas.

The largest of the natural parks is Daisetsuzan: known for it’s wilderness and volcanoes. It is formed by the Daisetsuzan volcanic group, which is arranged around the Ohachidaira caldera. The highest peak of the group is Mt. Asahidake (2,291 m above sea level) and remains active. The Mt. Tokachi volcanic group, named after its highest peak Mt. Tokachi (also an active volcano), and the Ishikari Mountain Range, which includes the Mt. Shikaribetsu volcanic group near Lake Shikaribetsu and older geological strata of the Hidaka Mountain Range, make up the rest of the volcanic groups in the park.

Mt. Asahidake has not erupted since 1739, but constantly releases steam, which escapes from cracks across it’s volcanic slopes. According to Daniela Domeisen, who took the photograph we feature today:

“The fumaroles give the volcano its characteristic look and sulphuric smell.”

She goes on to describe the impressive volcanic setting:

“The mountain raises rather slowly, but with a steep and slippery peak. The descent on the opposite side is literally a secluded paradise, with the soil and the plants competing for the most beautiful patchwork of colour.”

Imaggeo is the EGU’s online open access geosciences image repository. All geoscientists (and others) can submit their photographs and videos to this repository and, since it is open access, these images can be used for free by scientists for their presentations or publications, by educators and the general public, and some images can even be used freely for commercial purposes. Photographers also retain full rights of use, as Imaggeo images are licensed and distributed by the EGU under a Creative Commons licence. Submit your photos at http://imaggeo.egu.eu/upload/.

 

GeoSciences Column: Don’t throw out that diary – medieval journals reveal the secret of lightning

GeoSciences Column: Don’t throw out that diary – medieval journals reveal the secret of lightning

When 17th century Japanese princess Shinanomiya Tsuneko took note of an afternoon storm in her diary one humid Kyoto summer, she could not have imagined her observations would one day help resolve a longstanding scientific conundrum. Statistical analysis of her journals has revealed a link between lightning strikes and the solar wind – proving that your teenage diary could contain good science, as well as bad poetry.

The mystery of lightning

Lightning has amazed and alarmed weather-watchers since time immemorial. So it may come as a surprise that we still have little idea what sets off one of nature’s most thrilling spectacles.

Any school child will tell you lightning is caused by a difference in electrical charge. Up- and downdrafts cause molecules of air and water to bump against each other, exchanging electrons. When the potential difference is big enough, all those separated charges comes rushing back in one big torrent, superheating the air and turning it into glowing plasma – that’s what we call lightning.

So far, so sensible. But there’s a problem. Air is an insulator – and a very good one at that. To get the current flowing, charged particles need some sort of bridge to travel across. And it’s this bridge that has vexed lightning scientists – fulminologists – for decades.

The most prominent theory points the finger at cosmic rays – heavy, fast-moving particles that impact the Earth from space. Packing energy roughly equivalent to a fast-bowled cricket ball into one tiny atom-sized package, a cosmic ray can shred electrons from their nuclei with ease. The spectacular Northern Lights reveal the effect this can have on the atmosphere: columns of ionised air, perfect conductors for charges to travel along.

Most cosmic rays originate in deep space, hurled at close to the speed of light from distant supernovae. The extreme heat of the sun’s surface also sends more than a few our way – the so-called ‘solar wind’ – but because these particles are more sluggish than galactic cosmic rays, researchers at first doubted they could have much effect on the atmosphere. Lightning’s time in the sun was yet to come.

27 days of summer

Anyone who has lived a year in Japan will be familiar with the country’s long, sultry summers – and its famously methodical Met Agency. It’s a good place to go looking for lightning.

Inspired by some tantalising work out of the UK, Hiroko Miyahara and colleagues across Japan went sifting through their own Met data for patterns that might suggest a connection between solar weather and lightning strikes. They had their eye out for one pattern in particular – the 27-day cycle caused by the sun’s rotation. This is just short enough that the solar wind streaming from any given region of the sun is fairly constant, limiting the impact of solar variability on the data. It’s also short enough to fit comfortably within one season, which helped the authors compare apples with apples over long timespans.

Armed with the appropriate controls, and a clever method they developed for counting lightning strikes that smooths over patchy observations, Miyahara and the team got stuck into the data for Japan circa 1989–2015. Early in 2017, in a paper published in Annales Geophysicae, they presented their results. The 27-day signal stood out to four standard deviations: a smoking-gun proof that solar weather and lightning strikes are connected.

But how is the relatively sluggish solar wind able to influence lightning strikes? The key, according to Miyahara, is the effect the solar wind has on the Earth’s magnetic field – sometimes bolstering and sometimes weakening it, allowing the more potent galactic cosmic rays to wreak their mayhem.

A window into the past

Of course, the 27-day cycle is only the shortest of the major solar cycles. It is well known that the intensity of the sun varies on an 11-year cycle, related to convection rates in the solar plasma. Less understood are the much longer centurial and millennial cycles. The sun passed through one such cycle between the late Middle Ages and now. The so-called Little Ice Age, coinciding with a phase of low sunspot activity known as the Maunder Minimum, precipitated agricultural collapse and even wars across the world – and solar physicists believe we may be due for another such minimum in the near future, if it hasn’t begun already.

Understanding these cycles is a matter of no small importance. Unfortunately, pre-modern data is often scattered and unreliable, hampering investigations. A creative approach is called for – one that blends the disciplines of the human historian and the natural historian. And this is exactly what Miyahara and the team attempted next.

Shinanomiya Tsuneko was born in Kyoto 1642 – just before the Maunder Minimum. A daughter of the Emperor, Shinanomiya became a much-respected lady of the Imperial Court, whose goings-on she meticulously recorded in one of the era’s great diaries. Luckily for Miyhara and his colleagues in the present day, Shinanomiya was also a lover of the weather, carefully noting her observations of all things meteorological – especially lightning.

Figure and text from Miyahara et al, 2017b: “a) Group sunspot numbers around the latter half of the Maunder Minimum. b) Solar cycles reconstructed from the carbon-14 content in tree rings. The red and blue shading denotes the periods of solar maxima and minima, respectively, used in the analyses. c) Periodicity of lightning events during the solar maxima shown in panel (b). The red dashed lines denote 2 and 3 SD during the solar maxima, and the red shaded bar indicates the 27–30-day period. d) Same as in panel c) but for solar minima.”

Shinanomiya’s diary is one of five Miyahara and the team consulted to build a continuous database of lightning activity covering an astonishing 100 years of Kyoto summers. Priestly diaries, temple records, and the family annals of the Nijo clan were all cross-referenced to produce the data set, which preserves a fascinating slice of Earth weather during the sun’s last Grand Minimum.
Analysis of this medieval data revealed the same 27-day cycle in lightning activity observed in more recent times – proof of the influence of the solar wind on lightning frequency. The strength of this signal proved to be greatest at the high points of the sun’s 11-year decadal sunspot cycle. And the signal was almost completely absent between 1668 and 1715 – the era of the Maunder Minimum, when sunspot numbers are known to have collapsed.

Put together, the data provide the strongest proof yet that solar weather can enhance – and diminish – the occurrence of lightning.

Lightning strikes twice

Miyahara and the team now hope to expand their dataset beyond the period 1668 – 1767. With a little luck – and a lot of digging around in dusty old archives – it may be possible to build a record of lightning activity around Japan from before the Maunder Minimum all the way up to the present day. A record like this, covering a grand cycle of solar activity from minimum to maximum and, perhaps soon, back to a minimum again, would help us to calibrate the lightning record, providing a powerful new proxy for solar activity past and future. It may even help us to predict the famously unpredictable – lightning strikes injure or kill a mind-boggling 24,000 people a year.

As for the rest of us, the work of Miyahara and his colleagues should prompt us to look up at the sky a little more often – and note down what we see. Who knows? Three hundred years from now, it could be your diary that sets off a climate revolution – though it may be best to edit out the embarrassing details first.

by Rohan S. Byrne, PhD student, University of Melbourne

References

Miyahara, H., Higuchi, C., Terasawa, T., Kataoka, R., Sato, M., and Takahashi, Y.: Solar 27-day rotational period detected in wide-area lightning activity in Japan, Ann. Geophys., 35, 583-588, https://doi.org/10.5194/angeo-35-583-2017, 2017a.

Miyahara, H., Aono, Y., and Kataoka, R.: Searching for the 27-day solar rotational cycle in lightning events recorded in old diaries in Kyoto from the 17th to 18th century, Ann. Geophys., 35, 1195-1200, https://doi.org/10.5194/angeo-35-1195-2017, 2017b.