Far North Rambles #39: Cut Out The Pages
Have you ever lost your wallet? Were you stung instantly with deep feeling of distress in the pit of your stomach? I only lost my wallet once in my life, and fortunately, I found it on the floor, behind the chair where I sat. That was a bothersome feeling, but the day I lost my field notebook was a much darker feeling.
Field notebook? What is so special about a field notebook? Bedrock geological mapping involves slogging through the bush, looking for, finding, and examining rock outcrops. Every rock seen adds an incremental piece to the larger geological puzzle. While one outcrop in isolation tells a story, the BIG story only comes from consideration of 100’s of rock outcrops. One outcrop is like a single piece of a 1000 piece puzzle. Each piece alone is important, especially at the outset, but whole picture only reveals itself after most of the puzzle pieces are assembled. Creating a geological map story is the same.
For each outcrop visited, we recorded descriptions and measurements. In the late-1970’s, we recorded the data in paper notebooks. Each night, all the data were transferred to an evolving, paper geological map.
One summer, we spent 6 back-to-back days flying out of, and back to, Pickle Lake each day. We flew out just after sunrise and arrived back just before sunset. During the summer, the twilight is long, so our goal was to complete 2 days of work each day to justify the expensive plane flights. It was not unusual to arrive back in Pickle Lake between 8 and 9 PM. The downside? I did not transfer the data from my notebook to the geological map each night because we were tired.
At noon on the last day, I stood alone, in the bush, to eat lunch. It was practice to work alone then. I examined the lunch outcrop and recorded my notes before eating. After lunch, I walked about 15 m (50 feet) to the next outcrop. I did my initial walk-about to gain an overview of that new outcrop, before pulling out my notebook to record my notes. No notebook! Checked my pack and pockets. No notebook. I was a little angry at myself, because I had to walk back to the lunch rock where I assumed I left my notebook. Waste of time and added steps. As I retraced my steps, I scolded myself for not checking that I had my notebook before leaving the lunch outcrop.
I had 5 consecutive days of unrecorded data in my notebook. I had to find the book. I searched the lunch area. NO notebook. Disappointing, but optimistic, because the notebook had to be on the ground between the two outcrops, which were only 15 metres apart. It should be easy to find. Right? Over the next hour I walked back and forth MANY times between the two outcrops. NO notebook. Now my anger changed to frustration. If I lost the notebook, I would lose 6 days of data. The map could not be completed. I would cost the company a lot of money for airplane flights. My frustration turned to worry. I stood on the lunch outcrop and could clearly see the other outcrop. How was it possible for a notebook to disappear over such a short distance? I tied tiny pieces of flagging tape to the grass to mark where I walked. The land looked like a parade of flags. But, NO notebook.
I recall the revelation when I suddenly saw the notebook after about 2 hours of looking. Perhaps I looked at the ground in a different way. Perhaps the Sun illuminated the knee-high grass in a different way. The weight of the world was lifted. I was ecstatic.
That night, back in Pickle Lake, I promised myself to cut the pages out of my notebook each evening, after a field day. That would guarantee if I ever lost my notebook, I would only lose 1 day of notes. As it turned out, I never lost a notebook again, and the collateral benefit was the notebook got thinner and lighter each day .
To this day, I remain amazed how easily a dropped notebook can disappear into the grass.
Andy Fyon, Nov. 27, 2020 (Facebook, Oct. 23, 2020).