Desert Mountain—Utah's latest GeoSight

"now a quiet, remote monument to that violent geological time." (Smith 2025)

Desert Mountain's peaks and ridges lower right quarter of photo; white mark is high point (Google Earth).

Desert Mountain is small mountain—an isolated cluster of low peaks, ridges and knobs in Utah's West Desert. The first geologist to write about it thought "Desert Hills" more appropriate (Loughlin 1920). But its story is huge—complicated and filled with drama. And being geological, it's long.

We could start 300 million years ago, when collisions on both sides of a young North America were deforming it far inland, for example in today's western Utah. Or we could start 300 million years before that, when western Utah was covered in shallow water of the great Paleozoic Sea. Or we could go back yet another 300 million years to the creation of that sea, when the supercontinent Rodinia was coming apart. But we won't. Instead we'll start three months ago, on a hot spring day.

Shortly before I left home, the spring issue of Survey Notes showed up in my mailbox. Inside was a GeoSight—a new one, and in the general area of my travels. Of course I would go there! Of the many resources offered by the Utah Geological Survey (UGS), my favorite is GeoSights. I visited my first, the Honeycombs, in 2012. Awed by the rocks and their story, I've been geotripping to GeoSights ever since.

Sunset on the Honeycombs, 2012.

My visit to Desert Mountain was about 80 miles round trip from Delta. I took UT Hwy 6 north to the Jericho Callao Road, then drove west. Pavement soon gave way to gravel, a bit rough in places but generally good. The road crossed open juniper woodlands and sparse dry grasslands, with expansive playas to the south. After 22.5 miles, with Desert Mountain visible nearby, I stayed left at a junction and was soon at its base.

Approaching Desert Mountain from the north. Kelly Hewitt photo via Google Earth.

Rocks abound, trees not so much; pale band close to road is a fence covered in tumbleweeds.

The road continued along the base of a steep slope with granite outcrops, then climbed a short distance to Desert Mountain Pass where there was no shade to be had. I parked and reread Jackson Smith's GeoSight article inside the van, cooled by light breezes wafting through opened windows and doors.

Desert Mountain was born c. 30 to 40 million years ago, during the Great Ignimbrite Flareup which ravaged much of Nevada and western Utah. For 15 million years large volcanoes, supervolcanoes and complexes of supervolcanoes (1) produced on the order of 5.5 million km3 of volcanic material—great clouds of ash that blocked the sun, huge volumes of rock fragments hurled hundreds of miles, and searing pyroclastic flows that destroyed everything in their path. For comparison, the 1980 Mount St. Helens eruption produced only one km3 of material (source).

Geologic map shows rock units discussed here. Blue B's mark shoreline of glacial Lake Bonneville, black lines are faults, labeled arrows are mine (Smith 2025).

Today's rock outcrops suggest that the life of the Desert Mountain volcano had three stages. In the first, viscous rhyolite oozing from vents formed thick deposits of lava. Rhyolite outcrops are the remains of this relatively peaceful eruption (not part of my tour).

But while the lava oozed ever so slowly, trouble was brewing below. Gas was accumulating in the viscous magma, increasing in pressure until it literally exploded. Massive amounts of rock fragments and ash were sent flying. These pyroclastic deposits are said to be common east of the mountain, a project for a cooler day.

The eruption largely emptied the magma chamber, causing the roof of the volcano to collapse. The result was a caldera—a very large bowl-shaped depression. When the roof collapsed it broke up into a mishmash of preexisting rocks and erupted material, forming today's volcanic breccia. I may have seen it at Desert Mountain Pass, adjacent to the beautiful pale granite outcrops.

A close look at the volcanic breccia of Desert Mountain (UGS).

Desert Mountain Pass. Is that volcanic breccia behind the granite? I thought so at the time.

From the pass I drove south, using the geologic map to figure out what I was seeing. Occasionally I spotted large outcrops of much darker rock. This is granodiorite, an older intrusion predating the Desert Mountain volcano (age unknown).

Utah Juniper on pale granite; dark granodiorite in distance.

The star of the show, hands down, was the beautiful pale granite, the youngest and most extensive of Desert Mountain's rock outcrops. It was not present during the cataclysmic eruption, arriving later in the volcano's life. In the third stage, remaining magma rose but didn't reach the surface. Instead it cooled deep enough to form visibly crystalline rock—an exceptionally pale granite sometimes called leucogranite (2).

That may have been the final eruption but obviously there's more to the story, for the granite no longer is fully buried. Exhumation started about 17 million years ago, when the part of North America between the Wasatch Mountains and the Sierra Nevada (today's Basin and Range Province) began to stretch east to west. This extension deformed and fragmented older landscapes, including Desert Mountain. The caldera was uplifted, tilted and fractured, allowing erosion to slowly expose and sculpt the lovely granite.

Desert Mountain granite. Sonny Wilson photo, via Google Earth (cropped).

Granite on the west side of Desert Mountain. gjagiels photo, via Summit Post.

Spectacular outcrop at south end of Desert Mountain. Hmmm ... what are those black and white bands?

There's one more chapter in the Desert Mountain story. It's incomplete, difficult to properly place in the overall timeline, and has rock classification issues. But there's also fun to had.

Sometime after the granite was intruded—perhaps while the magma was cooling or later during extension (or both)—molten material filled fractures forming dikes. Whitish aplite dikes formed first, followed by dark andesitic dikes (3). How do we know the order? By their cross-cutting relationships! These are fun to find and worthy of attention for the story they tell. At Desert Mountain, the white dikes cross the pale granite and are therefore younger. The dark dikes cross both the white dikes and the granite and are therefore the youngest of the three.

 Wonderful display of cross-cutting relationships; white arrows mark less conspicuous aplite.

I considered camping at the base of this outcrop but it was much too hot for me. On the drive to Delta, I stopped and took one more photo of the beautiful pale granite. Then I continued south.

See the dike?

Notes

(1) Desert Mountain is part of the Thomas-Keg-Desert mountains caldera complex (DeCourten 2003). The Honeycombs, mentioned early in the post, may be related.

(2) The pale granite at Desert Mountain was called leucogranite early on (e.g., Kattelman 1968). Now "leucogranite" is increasingly used for a pale granite formed in collisional tectonic settings, for example in the Himalayas (E. H. Christiansen, personal communication). For more, see Miller's excellent Perspective (2024). He explains that though collisional is by far the most common tectonic setting for leucogranite formation, it can form in others, including extensional, if certain conditions are met (e.g., composition low in aluminum). In any case, "leucogranite" is used in Jackson's GeoSights article; Christiansen prefers "granite". [Suggestion to UGS: In GeoSights articles, cite a few sources for additional information.]

(3) The dark dikes also are controversial. According to Jackson, the rock "apparently" is very dark lamprophyre—a catch-all term for various peculiar ultramafic rocks not amenable to the usual classifications (source). Christiansen and colleagues prefer andesite.

Sources (in addition to links in post)

I'm grateful to Eric Christiansen, Professor Emeritus at Brigham Young University, for answering my questions about igneous rocks at Desert Mountain, and for his appreciation of cross-cutting relationships.

Brigham Young University. 2013. Supervolcano in Utah: massive ancient volcano discovered by BYU geologists. YouTube.

DeCourten, FL. 2003. The Broken Land; adventures in Great Basin geology. U. Utah Press.

Loughlin, G. F., 1920, Desert Mountain, in B. S. Butler, and others, Ore deposits of Utah: U. S. Geol. Survey Prof. Paper III, 444-445. PDF

Miller, CF. 2024. Granites, leucogranites, Himalayan leucogranites ... Elements 20(6):359–364. doi: https://doi.org/10.2138/gselements.20.6.359

Rees, DC, Erickson, MP, Whelan, JA. 1973. Geology and diatremes of Desert Mountain, Utah. Utah Geological & Mineralogical Survey Special Studies 42. PDF

Smith, J. 2025. Geosights: Desert Mountain, Juab County, Utah. Utah Geological Survey, Survey Notes.

The Monthly Fern??—Prairie Spikemoss

Selaginella densa—moss, fern, fern ally, or none of the above? Coin is 19 mm across.

This month the South Dakota fern series features another oddity—a spikemoss, genus Selaginella. It's even more unusual than last month's Water Clover, for while water clovers are ferns, spikemosses are not, at least not anymore. So where in the greater scheme of plant classification do they belong?

The Prairie or Dense Spikemoss, Selaginella densa, is the more common of South Dakota's two spikemosses. It occurs in the Black Hills and scattered across the west half of the state. If you live in or have wandered across the Great Plains or Rocky Mountains, you may have seen it, for it grows on a wide range of sites—prairies, alpine meadows, dry rocky slopes, rock crevices, sandstone, quartzite or granite rock, and dry gravelly, clayey or sandy soil (Flora North America). Or maybe you overlooked it, as I used to do. After all, it looks very much like a moss (1).

Spikemosses were first classified—given a name and assigned to a plant group—by the great Swedish botanist Carl Linnaeus, founder of today's system of naming organisms. In his Species plantarum (1754) he placed them in the CRYPTOGAMIA MUSCI section—the mosses. That was a big mistake, but at the time it was a reasonable decision. Like mosses, Selaginella produces spores (2). But unlike mosses, it has vascular tissue—plumbing for transporting water and nutrients.

In the late 1890s another Swedish botanist was studying spikemosses, while preparing a Catalogue of the Flora of Montana and the Yellowstone National Park. Per Axel Rydberg had emigrated to the United States in 1882, hoping for a career as a mining engineer. But after a serious injury in an iron mine in Michigan, he moved to eastern Nebraska to teach mathematics. He also studied botany at the University of Nebraska—the beginning of a "lifelong devotion to plant studies" in the Great Plains and Rocky Mountains (source).

In 1895 and 1896, Rydberg was sent to Montana by the US Department of Agriculture to collect grasses and forage plants. The next summer he returned, with the first field expedition of the New York Botanical Garden. He made about 1800 collections representing 800 species—20,000 specimens in all (replicates were collected for exchange or sale to other institutions).

Rydberg's Catalogue included a large foldout map showing localities mentioned in the text. He noted that the eastern half of the state was "practically unexplored botanically." (BHL)

Going through his collections that winter, Rydberg saw that the flora of Montana was poorly known, even with his additions. "It was therefore considered advisable to extend the work and study all the material from the state that was accessible." He examined specimens from 16 institutions and private individuals, ranging from the Lewis & Clark collection (1803–1804) to the Montana Ladies' [Columbian] World's Fair Set (1893). By the time the Catalogue was published in 1900, Rydberg had added 776 species to the flora of the Rocky Mountain region, including 163 novelties—species new to science (Rydberg would become known as a notorious splitter).

Among the novelties was a low densely-tufted plant with very short stems covered in bristle-tipped leaves 3–5 mm long. Fertile stems were taller, to c. 4 cm, with spore-bearing leaves (sporophylls) neatly arranged in four ranks, forming terminal strobili (aka cones).

Prairie Spikemoss forms dense mats in this soil crust. Matt Lavin photo.

Selaginella densa's 4-angled strobili rise above very short sterile stems that look like clusters of bristle-tipped leaves. cinthyadasilva photo.

Rydberg knew the plant was a spikemoss, but the dense "moss-like" form was not something he had seen before. After careful study of seven specimens, he concluded it was a new species, calling it Selaginella densa. The holotype (basis for formal description) was a specimen collected in 1889 by Valery Havard, a French-born American military physician, explorer and botanist.

Havard identified his specimen (NYBG) as S. rupestris, which is widespread in the east half of the US.

In his Catalogue Rydberg followed the accepted classification of the day. He included Selaginella densa in the Pteridophytes—spore-bearing vascular plants, mainly ferns. He put it near the end of the section, with horsetails, clubmosses and other oddballs. These were the Fern Allies. Like ferns they bore spores, had vascular tissue, and reproduced via two distinct independent life stages. But otherwise they were decidedly unfernlike, and very different from each other. Just look below!

Horsetails and scouring rushes, genus Equisteum, have jointed stems with cylindrical sheaths tipped with teeth. These are thought to be highly modified leaves. Spores are born in terminal cones.

Unbranched species of Equisetum are called scouring rushes. Andre Zharkikh photo.

Whisk ferns, genus Psilotum, have linear shoots that fork in the upper half. Minuscule scale-like leaves subtend globose spore containers 2–3 mm across.

Sideways view of a whisk fern. Mary Keim photo.

Quillworts, genus Isoetes, are aquatic, with grass-like clusters of linear leaves. Spores are born in sac-like structures in enlarged leaf bases.

Bolander's Quillworts in a lake in the Wasatch Mountains, Utah. Andrey Zharkikh photo.

Clubmosses, family Lycopodiacee, are a more diverse group, with 7 genera and 27 species in North America. Some are suggestive of spikemosses; in fact spikemosses were put in the genus Lycopodium by Linnaeus.

These clubmosses, all formerly genus Lycopodium, are now 4 separate genera; from Ferns and Evergreens of New England, 1895 (BHL).

The Fern Allies group came into use in the early 1800s, as a catchall for diverse, puzzling, somewhat fernlike plants. But after about a century botanical experts began to object. Some Allies appeared to be more closely related to ferns, others not so much. Then less than a century later, the Allies got caught up in a revolution. Biologists were switching to a phylogenetic approach to classification. In a nutshell (a very tiny one), they now hope to classify organisms based on evolutionary relationships, i.e., so that all members of a group share a common ancestor. The Fern Allies do not, so they were reclassified (3).

The commonly accepted classification splits the Allies into two groups that diverged long ago, early in the evolution of vascular plants. One includes ferns, horsetails, whisk ferns and seed plants. The other group is much smaller, a collection of relatively primitive plants: quillworts, clubmosses and spikemosses. These are lycophytes (answer to question at top of post). For a longer summary, see The Ferns and their Allies at Cliffnotes. For a deep discussion, start with Pteridophyte taxonomy on Wikipedia.

Fern and lycophyte classification from the Pteridophyte Phylogeny Group. Black labels added, not sure how that guy in the corner snuck in.

Notes

(1) Not all spikemosses are as humble and mosslike as ours. Selaginella is a large genus with c. 800 species, mainly of the tropics and subtropics. In hospitable habitat, spikemosses can be quite showy—some are iridescent!

Selaginella uncinata, Blue Spikemoss, is native to moist shady sites in southern Chile and is widely cultivated; leaves are 3–4 mm long (Flora North America). GKA Dickson photo.

(2) Actually Linnaeus couldn't decide whether "fern dust" was pollen or seeds. The concept of spores would come later.

(3) It's been really hard to give up Fern Allies! It's such a handy label for those diverse kinda-fernlike species. Not surprisingly, the name hasn't gone away. Sometimes it appears under an alias, for example "Fern Relatives" in Ferns of Northeastern and Central North America (2005). More often it pops up in casual conversation, or is used by older botanists who haven't bothered to learn the new scheme. After resorting to "Fern Allies" in a message to pteridologist Robbin Moran, I committed to learning it (Robbin is much too kind to disapprove directly, but he did refer to "lycophytes" in his reply).

Sources (in addition to links in post)

Cobb, B, Farnsworth, E, Lowe, C. 2005. Ferns of Northeastern and Central North America. 2nd ed. Peterson Field Guide Series.

Linné, Cv. 1754. Species plantarum v2. BHL

Moran, Robbin. 2004. A Natural History of Ferns. Timber Press.

Rydberg, PA. 1900. Catalogue of the Flora of Montana and the Yellowstone National Park. Memoirs of the New York Botanical Garden. BHL

those birds unknown, that left only footprints

Big toes! Huge bird!!

Along the rim of Bull Canyon, on the north slope of the La Sal Mountains in southeast Utah, my field assistant and I followed footprints in sand. Three-toed two-footed creatures had passed this way when the sand was wet, before it turned to rock. They were common then, traveling in packs.

Similar 3-pronged impressions occur 2000 miles to the east, in the Connecticut River Valley in Massachusetts. Some are famous—among the earliest to be studied and published. They were found in 1835 by Dexter Marsh, who was laying a flagstone sidewalk. He showed the slabs to the owner of the property who gave them to a physician who then gave them to state geologist Edward Hitchcock.

"They consist of two slabs, about forty inches square, originally united face to face; but on separation, presenting four most distinct depressions on one of them, with four correspondent projections on the other; precisely resembling the impressions of the feet of a large bird in mud." (Hitchcock 1836, italics mine)

Sandstone slabs, each 36.5" x 34"; depressions (molds) on left, projections (casts) on right (source, click on "Fossil Slabs Found by Dexter Marsh").

Hitchcock was understandably excited. Very few bird fossils had been found anywhere, and geologists had decided that because most birds were lightweight creatures of the air, they were unlikely to be submerged and preserved on the bottom of lakes, oceans and such. "Even when they chance to perish in the water, they float so long upon the surface, as to be most certainly discovered, and devoured by rapacious animals."

As it turned out, such marks were fairly common in the area. Hitchcock studied slabs from five quarries, concluding that the impressions must have been made by birds:

1. These impressions are evidently the tracks of a biped animal. For I have not been able to find an instance, where more than a single row of impressions exists.

2. They could not have been made by any other known biped, except birds. On this point, I am happy to have the opinion of more than one distinguished zoologist.

3. They correspond very well with the tracks of birds.

Some of Hitchcock's drawings of modern-day bird tracks, from his 1836 publication (source).

However, many of the tracks Hitchcock studied were too large to have been made by the birds we know—to 18 inches long and 13 inches wide, and separated by 6-foot strides. Therefore these tracks must have been made by large birds now extinct. Eminent geologists of the day agreed with Hitchcock (2). But by the end of the century they had been "proven" wrong. These tracks were not avian, they were reptilian (Dean 1969).

Science marches on of course, and we now know that in a sense, Hitchcock and his colleagues were correct. The creatures that left footprints in the Connecticut River Valley and southeast Utah were indeed birds. But they also were dinosaurs, specifically theropods (study the images below before discussing this at cocktail parties).

Dinosaur classification (3). While all birds are dinosaurs, not all dinosaurs are birds; similarly, birds are a subset of theropods (from Zureks).

Evolution of birds from a dinosaur ancestor; Manti-La Sal National Forest, Bull Canyon Tracksite.

You might be wondering why dinosaurs traveled the rim of Bull Canyon. Well ... actually they didn't. There was no Bull Canyon 157 million years ago. Instead this was a broad coastal plain, where large bipeds could cruise along at 2.5–3.5 mph (Hunt-Foster 2016).

The Bull Canyon Tracksite includes at least 50 well-preserved large theropod tracks, to 18 x 14 inches in size. But aside from footprints little is known about these creatures, for no bones have been found. So rather than naming a species, paleontologists named their tracks: Megalosauripus. These are ichnofossils—"a fossil record of biological activity by lifeforms but not the preserved remains of the organism itself." They're also called trace fossils, the term I learned.

 Theropods passed this way, in a pack perhaps.

They were big! (40-pound dog for scale).

Megalosauripus is a theropod track, not the theropod itself.

The wet sand where theropods once walked is now sandstone, part of the Moab Member of the Curtis Formation, dating from 157 million years ago (Late Jurassic). The setting was dynamic—changing sea level, oscillating shoreline, occasional sand dunes—making classification and dating of rock units difficult (Mathis 2021). But no matter. Whatever geologists decide to call the rock, its theropod tracks go on and on and on. They occur across Arches National Park, east to the Bull Canyon area and the Colorado–Utah state line, and perhaps as far south as Blanding. This is the Moab Megatracksite, also known as the Dinosaur Freeway. A conservative estimate of its size is 700 square miles; as of 2016, c. 3000 tracks had been reported from 30 sites (Hunt-Foster 2016).

Dinosaur Stomping Grounds, aka Jurassic Dancefloor, with at least 2000 theropod tracks (Sierra Club).

Our visit to the Bull Canyon Tracksite last fall was but a brief introduction. Many more opportunities to commune with large extinct birds await. Fortunately many of the sites are on public land, and there's a handy guide available (Hunt-Foster 2016). We shall return!

Dreaming of giant birds after a day in the field.

Notes

(1) The title of this post comes from a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow—To the Driving Cloud. He referred to fossil bird tracks in several poems (Dean 1969).

(2) Edward Hitchcock was a cleric and amateur geologist. In his time, so-called amateurs made major contributions, his study of fossil birds being a good example. Charles Lyell confirmed Hitchcock's findings, and included them in lectures and later editions of Principles of Geology. Louis Agassiz and others also spread the word (more in Dean 1969).

(3) Are you wondering, as I did, why birds are NOT included in the seemingly eponymous Ornithischia (lower right in diagram)? That group includes dinosaurs with hips that superficially resemble those of birds. Maybe the name predates the realization that birds evolved from a theropod.

Sources (in addition to links in post)

Dean, DR. 1969. Hitchcock's Dinosaur Tracks. American Quarterly 21:639–644. https://www.jstor.org/stable/2711940

Hitchcock, E. 1836. Ornithichnology—description of the footmarks of birds, (Ornithichnites) on New Red Sandstone in Massachusetts. American Journal of Science and Arts, XXIX:307-40. Internet Archive.

Hunt-Foster, RK, et al. 2016. Tracking Dinosaurs in BLM Canyon Country, Utah. Utah Geological Association, Geology of the Intermountain West, Vol. 3. PDF

Mathis, A. 2021. Moab, Goblin Valley, and the Curtis Formation. Moab Happenings Archive.

The Monthly Fern: Water Clover & its odd spores

"It is worth clarifying that these plants are not clovers." (Photo by Bill Dodd).

For July, South Dakota's fern-of-the-month is the Hairy Water Clover, Marsilea vestita. Among our ferns it's quite the oddball—in habitat, behavior, leaves, and especially the spores. They suggest that one of its ancestors was the evolutionary start of seed plants!

Water Clovers grow nearly worldwide. On the order of 45 to 65 species are recognized (experts disagree on number), of which 5 are native to North America. M. vestita, the Hairy Water Clover, is the only species in South Dakota (so far). It's known from many sites across the state, in shallow water and on mud. Plants are rooted (not free-floating) and tolerate seasonably dry conditions, for example persisting after a pond has dried up. In fact, wet followed by dry can aid in reproduction and dispersal (Montana Field Guide).

Marsilea vestita is rhizomatous and colonial; in wet habitat, leaflets usually are horizontal (MWI).

M. vestita in a field; in drier habitat, leaflets often are ascending (Mary Ellen (Mel) Harte photo).

Hairy Water Clover can grow as tall as 20 cm on moist soil, or to 40 cm in water (in order to reach the surface). Leaves are dimorphic—sterile and fertile—but neither is fern-like. Sterile leaves have blades with four rounded triangular leaflets, and look a lot like four-leaf clovers! No other plant can be confused with Marsilea (1). 

Sterile leaves of Hairy Water Clover have divided blades on long slender stalks (MWI).

The sterile leaves also are unusual in behavior. Water Clovers are the only ferns known to be nyctinastic—moving with the onset of darkness. During the day leaf segments are nearly horizontal. Then as the sun sets they bend upward, forming a packet of sorts (Montana Field Guide has an account of this and other interesting features of Water Clover).

Fertile "leaves" are located near the base of sterile leaf stalks. In shape and size they resemble beans or peppercorns (source of another common name, Pepperwort). Being unusual they of course have a special name—sporocarp (= spore body); oldtimers like Linnaeus called them capsules.

Marsilea vestita. The hairy sporocarps contain 2 kinds of spores (lower right). Britton & Brown 1913.

Young sporocarps are greenish, hairy and slightly soft. With maturity they dry out, darken and become very hard. In this state they can survive for many years; the record is said to be 100. The Marsilea sporocarp is an effective unit of dispersal, often by way of waterfowl digestive tracts.

Like almost all ferns, Water Clovers have sori—clusters of sporangia which contain the spores. But the arrangement is quite different. In a typical fern, sori are located on the underside of leaves. In Marsilea, they're neatly arranged inside the sporocarp.

A typical fern; sori are clusters of sporangia, which contain dust-sized spores (2). USDA Forest Service.

Marsilea sporocarp with sori; below it, a sorus with sporangia, which release spores (no source given).

A cross-section through a Marsilea sporocarp (above) reveals an orderly but complicated interior. Inside the container-like sori are 2 kinds of sporangia. This is where things get exciting. They produce 2 kinds of spores—male and female!

Most ferns, 99% in fact, release a single type of spore—tiny, 1-celled, asexual. But not Water Clovers. They're among the 60 fern species (out of c. 10,500 total) with male microspores and female megaspores. These are heterosporous ferns; interestingly, all are aquatic (more here).

When a Marsilea microspore bursts open, many sperm (aka spermatozoids) swim off in search of an egg to fertilize—not unlike sperm of typical ferns. It's the megaspores that are so unusual. Not only are they 10 times the size of a typical fern spore, they're complex, with specialized parts.

Marsilea megaspore, c. 0.8 mm long, with 2 cells (no source given).

Shortly after leaving its sporangium, the megaspore divides to become two joined cells. The upper cell will produce an egg, which gives off chemicals to attract sperm. If a sperm successfully wriggles through the opening and reaches the egg, fertilization takes place, leading to development of an embryo and then a baby fern.

In comparison, the megaspore's basal cell is huge, and rich in carbohydrates and fats. These will sustain the developing fernling in its first days, before it can photosynthesize. In this way, a megaspore is like a seed, which supplies nutrients for its young seedling. Perhaps an ancestor of Marsilea was the evolutionary beginning of seed plants (more here).

Some readers may be wondering where the gametophytes are—those tiny independent plantlets that are the sexual stage of ferns. Good question! Water Clovers do have gametophytes, but they are minute and NOT independent (another similarity to seed plants). For more about the life cycle of heterosporous ferns, see (3) in Notes.

Simplified?

Now we finally arrive at the long-promised answer to the burning question, "How many spores would fit in a typical [empty] can of soda?"

Fern spores are truly tiny. A handful looks like a pile of dust. To show just how small they are, Robbin Moran (2021) calculated the number of average-sized spores that would fit in a typical can of soda, which has a capacity of 355 milliliters. For spore volume, he used 125,000 µm3, assuming for simplicity that a spore is a cube. What do you think? How about a ballpark estimate?

Hmmm ... 777,000?

Maybe 10 million?

According to Robbin's calculations the answer is 4,440,000,000 (4.4 billion). Yikes, that's a lot! Yes, spores are tiny indeed (4).

Notes

(1) While Water Clovers are easily recognized, distinguishing the Hairy Water Clover from others in the genus is not easy, requiring sporocarps. If you intend to document an occurrence, be sure to collect both types of leaves. See Marsilea in Flora of North America for a species key and descriptions.

(2) It seems sporangia are readily mistaken for spores, as a search for images of "fern spores" suggests. Many of the images actually are sporangia clustered in sori.

(3) In the previous Monthly Fern, I made a big deal out of the 2-stage life cycle of ferns, which involves separate tiny green sexual plantlets—gametophytes—that give birth to baby ferns. Heterosporous ferns have gametophytes, but they are minute and not independent. They develop inside the persistent spore wall, where they give rise to either sperm-producing antheridia or egg-producing archegonia (gametophytes of typical ferns usually have both). For the female gametophyte, developing inside the spore wall provides additional protection for the embryo, but there's no access to sunlight to photosynthesize food for the fernling. That's why the nutrient-rich basal cell is so important.

Life cycle of Marsilea, a heterosporous fern (labels added). See Milne Publishing for details.

(4) I couldn't find Robbin Moran's article online. If you'd like to read more about fern spores, and all of Robbin's calculations and conclusions (e.g. 4.44 billion spores taken together has a surface area nearly equal to 8.5 ping-pong tables), send me an email address and I'll send you a PDF file.

Sources (in addition to links in post)

Hooker, WJ, and Greville, RK. 1831. Figures and descriptions of ferns, principally of such as have been altogether unnoticed by botanists, or as have not yet been correctly figured. Vol. 2. BHL

Milne Publishing. Marsilea. Accessed June 2025.

Montana Field Guide. Montana Natural Heritage Program. Hairy Water Fern—Marsilea vestita.

Moran, RC. 2004. The Natural History of Ferns. Timber Press.

Moran, R. 2021. Fern Spores, Soda Cans, and Ping-Pong Tables. Fiddlehead Forum (May–Dec).

Pinson, J. About Ferns, American Fern Society.

PremaBotany (Prema Iswary). December 2018. Marsilea.

A Restless Region on the Colorado Plateau

Castle Valley, 20 miles east of Moab, UT; Round Mountain rises from the valley floor on the right.

The Colorado Plateau is a thick block of crust in the Four Corners area of the American Southwest, an immense stack of sedimentary rock. It's remarkably stable, remaining a region of geological calm even when severe deformation was underway right next to it—uplift and faulting of the Rocky Mountains to the east, and stretching and breaking of the Basin and Range Province to the west. This is why the Plateau's sedimentary rocks are largely horizontal, like the deposits they once were (source).

This is not to say the landscapes are boring. In fact they're spectacular—sweeping vistas with colorful roughhewn features. For the last 10 million years the Plateau has been rising, invigorating streams and accelerating erosion. The result is a seemingly endless collection of buttes, arches, rimrock, fantastical spires, deep winding canyons, and more.

The Colorado Plateau covers c. 130,000 sq mi; note complex topography in adjacent areas (source unknown).

Valley of the Gods near Bluff, UT; vertical and horizontal erosional features are common on the Colorado Plateau.

Entrenched meander of the San Juan River, cut through horizontal strata; Goosenecks State Park.

Looking down Castle Valley. Is this a standard Colorado Plateau landscape? Bryant Olsen photo.

Castle Valley appears to be dominated by vertical and horizontal features, as is typical on the Colorado Plateau. Is it another example of recent uplift and erosion? Only partly. Its story is much more complicated—repeated flooding, prolonged deposition, unusual deformation, weird intrusions, and finally ... collapse.

About three hundred million years ago, not far east of today's Castle Valley, the great Uncompahgre Range was rising. At the same time the Paradox Basin was subsiding along the range's base, and filling with sediments eroded off the mountains. Critical to the Castle Valley story, seas repeatedly flooded the Basin (1). Then whenever sea level dropped, the saltwater left behind evaporated and deposited evaporites, including lots of salt (halite). At least 29 such cycles took place over a period of at least 8 million years. The result was extensive deposits of evaporites at least 4000 ft thick—the Paradox Formation (2).

Ancestral Rocky Mountains c. 300 million years ago; darker blobs are major ranges; Castle Valley location approximate (modified from Soreghan et al. 2009).

Being evanescent creatures, it's difficult for us to think of geologic structures as ephemeral. But the rock record clearly shows that they are. Even mountains have lifetimes. The great Uncompahgre Range is now gone, razed by erosion. The Paradox Basin also disappeared, filled to overflowing with sediments and then deeply buried. But in a sense both are still with us. Uncompahgre sediments are widely displayed in colorful rocks across the Colorado Plateau. And the Paradox Basin maintains a ghostly presence—dramatic, but difficult to explain.

After deposition of the last Paradox evaporites, the region was inundated by tropical seas—source of the impressive layers of limestone, sandstone, siltstone and shale that line Plateau drainages. Then about 200 million years ago, when the supercontinent Pangaea started to come apart, there was a shift to terrestrial deposits—dune sand, volcanic ash, and sediments from rivers, lakes, and inland seas. Under this immense "lithic layer cake" lay the Paradox salt, deeply interred but not dead (source).

Salt is a strange kind of sedimentary rock. Sediments such as sand and mud can be compressed to form dense rocks, but salt remains nearly unchanged under pressure. It's weaker and less dense than the rock around it, but also plastic—with properties of both solids and liquids. It can flow to escape from its "stressful surroundings", deforming any rocks in its way (source). Deformation can occur at the scale of landscapes, and the old Paradox Basin has many fine examples: fins and arches of the Fiery Furnace, closely-spaced meanders on the Colorado River, and at least seven parallel northwest-trending valleys, including Castle Valley.

Dotted elongate blobs are parallel northwest-trending valleys. Blue circle marks intriguing overlap of Castle and Spanish Valleys with La Sal Mountains (3). Modified from Doelling 1985.

Castle Valley begins at the base of the northern La Sal Mountains and extends northwest about 12 miles. It's a broad valley, to 2 miles wide. The southwest wall is capped by a nearly continuous outcrop of the erosion-resistant Wingate Sandstone, known as Porcupine Rim. On the other side of the valley, the wall is less continuous but equally dramatic—carved into mesas, buttes, rimrock and spires.

Porcupine Rim—Jurassic Wingate Sandstone caps southwest wall of Castle Valley.

Northeast side of Castle Valley; strata tilting away from valley center visible at arrow.

Geologists find Castle Valley intriguing. The floor is much broader than would be expected for its little streams, and quite flat. Rock layers on both sides of the valley tilt down away from the valley center (more easily seen on the northeast side, photo above). Most exciting is what lies beneath the surface. Wells drilled in the center of the valley revealed a long steep-sided bed of salt to 1000 feet thick! Castle Valley must be a salt anticline, an elongate convex uplifted fold cored by salt. On this geologists agree. But as to how it formed and what happened to it ... that's another matter.

Castle Valley (Google Earth). But where's the anticline?! Valley walls hint at what happened.

The diagram below shows a common explanation for salt anticlines. In the top panel, flowing salt accumulates to form a convex fold, pushing up overlying rock layers. Castle Valley salt is thought to have flowed and formed an anticline 300 to 200 million years ago (Ornduff 2006, Trudgill 2011).

Salt anticline in cross section; at the time of the top panel, Castle "Valley" would have been a long ridge.

Now the Castle Valley anticline is mostly gone. The second and third panels in the diagram show a possible demise, but first, a major disturbance very close by needs to be considered—uplift of the La Sal Mountains about 28–25 million years ago (3).

The La Sals are not a mountain range but rather clustered peaks. They're similar to volcanoes except that magma never reached the surface. Pioneering geologist AC Peale called them "eruptive mountains of a peculiar type ... igneous and yet non-volcanic". Recent studies indicate that magma stopped just 1–3 miles below the surface, making them shallow intrusions, specifically laccoliths.

La Sal Mountains rise 8000+ feet above the Colorado Plateau—a major disturbance! (source)

La Sal high country: La Sal Peak (right) is intruded trachyte; Castle Mountain (left) is still capped with sedimentary rock (Ross 1998).

Now we're faced with another question. If magma never reached the surface, why are the La Sal "intrusions" visible? Instead of being 1–3 miles below the surface, their tops stand over a mile above the Plateau. The likely answer is the recent uplift and erosion of the Colorado Plateau mentioned at the beginning of this post.

Starting about ten million years ago, both the Colorado Plateau and the Basin and Range Province (to the west) have been rising. But while the latter was stretched and faulted, forming its eponymous basins and ranges, the Plateau remained a single block. Eventually it rose about kilometer higher than the Basin and Range. Why? That's a puzzle not yet solved (source). In any case, streams were steepened and invigorated, and erosion sped up enough to reveal the La Sal laccoliths.

Recent uplift and erosion probably explain the demise of the Castle Valley anticline as well. Erosion and/or faulting of overlying rock would have exposed the salt to water. Being salt, it of course dissolved. When enough was removed, rock layers at the crest fractured and collapsed, creating a breached anticline. But others think differently. Regional extension may have been the cause, perhaps related to ongoing extension in the Basin and Range Province. Or as Naqi et al. (2016) safely concluded, "formation of the salt valleys might be attributed to multiple factors (i.e., extensional forces, salt dissolution, and internal salt flow) rather than a single mechanism."

A salt anticline's demise may start with salt dissolution, followed by collapse of rock layers at the crest.

Breached anticline; dashed line shows former continuity across crest (Grabau 1920, A Textbook of Geology).

Let's visit!

Castle Valley is a great destination for geotrippers. Enough remains of the anticline to see and appreciate what happened. The tilted rock layers of the flanks are now the valley walls. Imagine them reaching higher and arching across the broad floor. Consider the depth of the valley below the now-imaginary crest and think about how much salt and rock must have been removed! Then look toward the head of the valley, at the dark hill rising from the floor. That's Round Mountain—a little relative of the La Sal intrusions. It was exposed when the anticline was breached and deeply eroded.

Castle Creek Road (paved) runs the length of the valley, providing easy access. Spires, buttes and mesas on the northeast side can be reached from several parking areas. Round Mountain is a short distance south of Castle Valley Road via a rough eroded 2-track; I parked just off the paved road and walked. Tour the southwest side via the Porcupine Rim trail—highly recommended, though maybe not on weekends and holidays.

Castleton Tower is a short hike from Castle Valley Road.

La Sals on left, Round Mountain on right, rabbitbrush in foreground.

En route to Round Mountain, Porcupine Rim beyond.

Looking up Castle Valley from Porcupine Rim, La Sal Mountains on horizon; redrockrubi.

Refreshing shade, courtesy uplift and erosion of the Colorado Plateau.

Notes in addition to links in post

(1) Cyclicity of Paradox deposition is well documented, but the cause is debated. Glaciation seems to be most popular, specifically sea level change with alternating glacial and interglacial periods. Other possibilities include rise of the Uncompahgre Range and climate change. Trudgill (2011) concluded that glaciation-driven changes in sea level was the main cause; tectonics and/or climate change may have made lesser contributions.

(2) In my reading, I found a range of estimates for Paradox deposition: 29 or 33 cycles over 8 to 15 million years, producing evaporites 4000, 6000 or 8000 ft thick (Ornduff et al. 2006, Trudgill 2011, USGS).

(3) Geologists have long wondered whether the La Sal Mountain intrusions and salt anticlines such as Castle Valley are related. Thomas Harrison, who surveyed the Paradox Basin area in 1926, discussed the possibility in his report (1927):

"It is interesting to know that igneous intrusive rocks of very considerable importance are closely associated with the saline anticlines. The laccolithic La Salle Mountains occupy an area on and between two parallel anticlines ... A small isolated igneous stock [Round Mountain] surrounded by gypsum occurs in the Castle Valley salt [anticline]."

Harrison noted that salt anticlines were thought to be associated with lines of weakness dating from Precambrian time. Their uplift was followed by subsidence, and massive accumulation of sediments. Perhaps this "heavy load" generated heat that "liquefied rocks within the zone of fracture, resulting in the [magma] which formed the laccolith, and the Castle Valley stock" [Round Mountain].

Today's geologists may chuckle at the idea of a "heavy load" of sediments melting igneous rock below. In contrast, "lines of weakness dating from Precambrian time" are taken seriously. Many northwest-trending faults cut basement rocks in the Paradox Basin area. Ross (1998) concluded that "the locations of the La Sal Mountains intrusive centers along the trend of subsurface faults ... suggest that the faults were avenues of weakness for the ascent of magma in the upper crust. This is especially true for the northern and southern clusters of peaks [which coincide with salt anticlines]".

Sources

Doelling, HH. 1985. Geology of Arches National Park. Utah Geological Survey, to accompany Map 74. PDF

Harrison, TS. 1927. Colorado–Utah Salt Domes. Am. Assoc. Petroleum Geologists 11:111–133.

Ornduff, RL, Wieder, RW, Futey, DG. 2006. Geology Underfoot in Southern Utah. Mountain Press Publishing. For salt anticlines see Vignette 29, A Sea of Fins; for La Sal Mountains see Vignette 32, Intruders in a Sedimentary Domain.

Ross, ML. 1998. Geology of the Tertiary intrusive centers of the La Sal Mountains, Utah; influence of preexisting structural features on emplacement and morphology, in Laccolith complexes of southeastern Utah; time of emplacement and tectonic setting. USGS Bull. 2158: 61-83. PDF

Snyder, NP. 1996. Recharge area and water quality of the valley-fill aquifer; Castle Valley, Grand County, Utah. Report of Investigation 229. Utah Geological Survey. PDF

Soreghan, GS, et al. 2009. Hot fan or cold outwash? Hypothesized proglacial deposition in the upper Paleozoic Cutler Formation, western tropical Pangea. J. Sed. Res. 79:495-522.

Trudgill, BD. 2011. Evolution of salt structures in the northern Paradox Basin: controls on evaporite deposition, salt wall growth and supra-salt stratigraphic architecture. Basin Research 23:208–238. https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1365-2117.2010.00478.x

US Geologic Survey. Mid 2000s. Geologic Provinces of the United States: Colorado Plateau Province. Internet Archive WayBackMachine.