My first glimpse of Scotland was
from several thousand feet up, out the window of a Boing 757. After seventeen
hours of traveling, I was in a fugue state, barely registering what was
happening around me, and was staring more or less blindly out the window at a
hypnotic cloudscape that extended out to the horizon. Then, suddenly, a dark
and jagged shape rolled out from below the wing and into my field of view. My
mind automatically jumped into assessment mode: “Mountains. Sharp ridges and
U-shaped valleys. Formed by glaciers.”
And then my brain actually kicked
in. This wasn't just a mountain. This
was a mountain in Scotland, my first
real view of the land I would be living in for six weeks. This mountain was not
particularly impressive in a purely physical sense—it was short, mostly buried
in clouds, and covered in trees—but from a personal standpoint, I was instantly
enamored by what I could see. This wasn't just some mountain, of interest only to geologists and climbers. This was an historical artifact in its own right.
People were traipsing over that mountain literally thousands of years before I
was born. I was awed, inspired, and more than a little intimidated by the enormity of that fact.
In Edinburgh, I continued to think
about the geology I observed in a more historical context. The Edinburgh
Castle, for instance, is situated atop an intimidating basalt stock that looms
above the rest of the city. The jagged, lichen-covered faces of this outcrop
are shear black cliffs more than a hundred feet high, a virtually unassailable
position to any pre-industrial army. This incredibly defensible position played
a significant role in the capitol moving from Perth to Edinburgh, as it offered
increased security. So, while some might pass through Edinburgh and only see a castle on a rock, I now see an unassailable fortress with a foundation of basalt formed by an igneous intrusion millions of years ago. Geology and history have become one in Edinburgh.
The top of Edinburgh Castle, situated atop an outcrop of basalt, which in turn is a part of the larger butte that looms over the city. Photo by author |
The view from Edinburgh Castle is truly impressive. It is easy to imagine a king taking a morning stroll on the castle grounds to survey his domain. Photo by author |
Quite possibly one of the most
significant rocks in history, the Stone of Scone resides in the Edinburgh Castle,
alongside the Scottish crown jewels. From a purely scientific standpoint, it is
not an impressive specimen. It is a block of coarse-grained quartz sandstone about two
feet on a side, with an iron loop hammered into the ends for ease of transport.
Aside from some interesting but ordinary cross-bedding, there is nothing,
geologically speaking, that sets it apart from any other lump of sandstone from
the area. But this is the Stone of
Destiny. Monarchs have been coronated over this simple rock for centuries. The
magnitude of cultural significance tied to the Stone of Scone far outweighs its
physical weight of 336 pounds.
I left home thinking about the
geology I might see as just that: geology. Now, just six days into this
adventure, I realize that there is much more to just the physical nature of a
mountain, an igneous stock, a block of sandstone. These are historical objects,
cultural symbols that extend into the distant past, making it less distant by
their permanence.
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