Tag Archives: Little Tujunga Canyon

Sugarloaf? The Name Is Mud

[Sen. Alex Padilla has proposed up to a million acres in California will receive federal protection. Hurrah! He is to be congratulated for moving much faster than I can — for a whole month, I’ve been working against time and Google tech troubles to get a comprehensive SFVNatGeoMon website up, making the case for preserving the Sylmar-Pacoima-Tujunga hills.
These lands are mostly already public, but currently they are orphaned, with little upkeep and almost no public services (even trail markers). Thus, it is treated as a dumping ground, a wasteland. The side canyons of Lopez are still being leased off and paved over, level by level, as parking lots for cheap parking and storage of big-rig trucks and industrial junk. Of course this completely destroys the habitats, and scares off the animals. The SFV Canyons are on a slippery slope, which are the LA watershed, seem at terminal risk of being taken over by homeless jungles, dirt bikes and off-roaders, and remaining a dangerous junkyard, forever. The City is broke, the State is broke, and may be for a while, because of Covid-19…Federal support is the only thing that will cut across multiple agencies like the City, the DWP, the Forest Service, and the MCRC. And the geological theme would both unify the disparate canyons in the public mind, giving them a positive identity, and also help encourage local use, appreciation and respect for this integral part of Los Angeles. The investment would be small, for the benefits gained.
More details will appear in coming blogs, and eventually, on the website when it emerges.

Since February of 2019, I’ve taken many Views of Sugarloaf in Lopez Canyon. A headless sphinx; a kaleidoscope of sedimentary rock; crown jewel of the Land of Contrasts. A riddle, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in buckwheat. Now, I see it as an old volcano.

There are no volcanoes in Los Angeles, is the consensus of the Internet; but that’s misleading, a partial truth. True in that there is, or has never been discovered, a volcano with a textbook, one-vertical-pipe, ash-spewing Mt. Vesuvius model. Clearly Sugarloaf is not that. But from various ages and in different geological contexts all over the foothills are evinced quiet but insistent signs of molten-lava volcanism, such as the Miocene intrusions at Limerock and Gold Creek. And related to those, there may have been much more volcanism of a different but important kind, mud volcanism; its traces may only have been revealed in the last few years, as they have been active.

Mud volcanoes are well-recognized internationally, associated with petroleum and hydrocarbon districts. They are even famous throughout the solar system, for the phenomenon is found on Mars; and everybody involved in planning our invasion of the Red Planet is looking intently and expensively at them there. But they are obscure in California, despite the fact that the recent Creek Fire, the Sand Fire, and the Saddleridge fires were all almost certainly fueled by MV processes: namely, the copious methane likely to have been released from hydrothermal vents in the hills, like the formations pictured here. Government needs to put geologists and biologists on the ground here to study them, and the land needs to be protected from any other use or development than as hiking and open space, until the risk of flares and gas-offs is better understood. Also, public agencies must take this new change in the land seriously; it means understanding that except for oaks, which have deep tap-roots and may very well “lure” gas to the surface, most chaparral plants only have roots six inches deep, and don’t send up a 100-foot flare when they burn.

Below is Kagel Mountain, known for its graphite deposits but not for the breccia pipes which bring it, and the micro-organism-excreted methane created with it, to the surface. As you might discern, there is almost nothing to this face of the mountain except breccia pipes. These lead down to ‘aureoles’ in the subduction zone. Older photos don’t show the outline of the pipes as clearly as they are seen today. Just like a backyard gas fire pit filled with sand and pretty gravel, the gas has no trouble venting up these pipes and will eventually flare off if ignited. It may not happen again for a hundred years, or never again.

There are many articles online about MVs on Mars; I can’t provide links like I planned, since as of yesterday Google has suddenly stopped our websites from sharing links with each other; which was the whole point of the internet. But if you do your own online search, and are willing to load your own cookies, you might find much. Luckily, I copied a few links to science articles yesterday, on the general science of hydrothermal vents and mud volcanism:

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0012825219300777

https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-020-03346-6

https://agupubs.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1029/2005JB004094

https://www.intechopen.com/books/updates-in-volcanology-new-advances-in-understanding-volcanic-systems/an-overview-of-mud-volcanoes-associated-to-gas-hydrate-system

Azerbaijan….is this is what Sugarloaf looked like once?
Those striations are sand ducts, conglomerate-filled feeder pipes that bring mineralizing water and gas up from the hot high-pressure subduction zone below. It may take 100 years to take the journey. The little pyramid cones are called griphones, a mangling of the Italian griffone. Maybe in English we should just call them gryphons.

Below, a few of the huge number of recently active vents, cones, dribblers, eruptions, extrusions, seeps, and chemical blasts (in Lopez, Kagel, Limerock, Little T., Elsmere…). I could show a hundred more, and will, in future posts.

Recent (since about 2000) plate tectonics models illuminate the San Gabriel Range orogeny and the whole rise of the LA Basin— block capture and convergence, in a deep-sea and in-shore continental margin environment, where migrated and rotated fault blocks captured by the Pacific Plate were thrust up over, and/or down against shallow bay-shore shales and deep marine turbidites in a shallow subduction zone, forcing them under pressure towards magma intrusion centers relatively high in the upper mantle. All this, would predict a perfect environment for mud volcanism. These are similar conditions to the shale oil zones around the world where they are found.

A new model for volcanism in pierced soft-sediment basins like Sylmar-Pacoima-Tujunga, shows how the plumbing can diffuse, spreading horizontally while rising through the sands via shallow feeder pipes. This new model supports what is seen on the surface. Mud volcanoes start, and are seen mostly, just offshore, but many are known on land, too, for the conveyor-belt thrust of continental crust convergence pushes some sediment layers up and over, while some of the seamounts, along with the sea, sink into the subduction zone. Now that there’s no bay left, our mud volcanoes are high and dry — until rains, or a temblor, or a shift in groundwater plumbing, fills them with caustic fluids again. Wh

Sugarloaf is certainly less active, but much prettier and dressier, than its cousins in Azerbaijan, the naked-prototype mud volcanoes, near Baku, atop the Caspian Sea shale oil region. In upcoming blogs, or soon on the new website, I’ll go into more detail about what I’ve witnessed happening in the local geology, including tracing some recent activity to the July, 2020 4.4 temblor in Sylmar; and the possibility that massive uranium deposition vents are blasting the walls of Elsmere Canyon with eerie green and yellow stains — the same colors seen staining the pipes feeding the big Azeri crater. Until then, I hope Patient Reader will take away the following key points:

  • That the hills are incredibly beautiful and unique, and full of hydrothermal vents, with breccia pipes and conglomerate pipes and seeps, lately developed or re-activated, which have recently been gassing off and extruding fluid, metasomized minerals and gases;
  • That the vents are linked to the liquefaction structures, sand blows, sand murmurs, and chemical bleaching recently found in spots everywhere on the slopes; and to the numerous recent soft-sediment deformations, fissures and rifts, gozzans and skarn, strange mudpots and fumaroles, bradyseisms and griffoni, now sprouting in the canyons;
  • That as a result of hydrocarbon venting and related groundwater anomalies, the hills look much different today than they did historically or even a few years ago. They might be undergoing an unusual period of rapid transformation, including mass wasting of the hills, and some areas seem on a path to total denudation of all living soil.

Three panoramas taken last week, encompass the magnificent View of the quadrant from the vault of Sugarloaf: first, looking northwest; second, northeast; third, south over the Valley to Topanga. Expand them, and see the land.

Mountain High, Valley Low

Today’s cloud show was so spectacular I made a movie, with Mary Martin weaving a magic binding spell with her unforgettable: ‘Mountain High, Valley Low.’ Vale For All Seasons’ Greetings from the View! https://drive.google.com/file/d/1V8dU7tqrU_UIwjxflY6SpkYzi_82jX7O/view?usp=sharing

Just last week I was fretting about the parched sands in the foothills; then yesterday our first big winter rain arrived. It whitened the peaks, cleared the air, and delighted the chaparrall. Beauty and good feeling result! View Little Tujunga Canyon:

The fresh air and the clouds were so sweet — one wrapped itself in a funnel, and puff! — blew me a smoke-ring kiss, like Santa. One momentary curl of condensation refracted an amazing spotlight, conveniently pointing exactly to Valley Village!

Gneiss View — Mendenhall Ridge

Mendenhall Ridge is the Valley Village View, at least at the northern limit. Little Tujunga Canyon is the pass that gets you through; like the high pass that leads out of Shangri-la, you can look back down the canyon from the top of Little Tujunga Canyon Road and glimpse below peace and palm trees, swimming pools and sunshine; while just over the Ridge, lies a Howling Nowhere.

The sharp ridge sliced its way up through the Valley sands. The peaks on the ridge-line, and the long lines of fault-scarps in the foothills below them, are the outward and visible sign of the Uplift! by which Southern California arose from the sea. Imagine a watermelon seed gripped between forefinger and thumb; imagine by squeezing, the seed might pop up. Imagine then, the Pacific Plate squeezing against the North American Plate at San Gabriel Fault; and this slab of ancient rock, caught between, is what pops up out of the crack: a huge vertical shard of Precambrian gneiss. At 1.5. billion years old, this is some of the oldest rock around. The dark bands of the rock have a slight gray-blue tinge.

The Ridge seems to have been named in the 20s for Walter C. Mendenhall, the 6th Director of National Geological Survey. Apparently he was an expert on local aquifers, appropriate since the Mendenhall Ridge cradles and gives rise to the Pacoima/Tujunga Watershed, which gives rise to the Los Angeles River, upon which so much depends.

Despite Ira Gershwin’s grumbling about tumbling and crumbling, a mountain is a pretty good investment for love, and I love this one. For more dirt on the geology, here’s a link to an (undergraduate!) thesis with all the gooey details on Mendenhall gneiss.

To Market, To Market

Gusty, bone-chilling Santa Ana winds left us without power this morning — seperately from, water turned off — seperately from, phones soon out of juice and, of course, the cable internet down, seperately from, had to walk home against said bone-chilling wind, from Van Nuys DWP, where I had gone in person to brave the queue and report the outages; Because Metro. ^&*!

To cheer myself up about America In General, and LA In Particular, I recall the bliss I experienced yesterday on my walk to the Studio City Farmers’ Market. These photos encapsulate, in a few quintessential moments of serendipity, what I love about the Valley.

Mine Own Back Yard. Yet, I need oranges to make Krysia’s recipe…those over the fence sure look yummy…but Norah told me, that clambering over Old Man Hartsook’s wall to steal fruit was Wrong. I knew the Senate might overlook theft, but Norah’s righteous eyes wouldn’t. Besides, I need NAVEL oranges. So off to market!
The first property south of the Old Wall (the 101) on Laurel Canyon is a magic spot. So often in LA these “freeway ramp orphans” are blighted or vacant; here, though, the isolation and the artist tenant who lives there, nurture life, native and exotic. Here, a volunteer native Bush mallow, twenty feet long, curls up and dangles down from, the phone pole rigging. I’ve never seen one so gorgeous; I thought it was hibiscus.
Tracing the long arc of the stem, I met this splendid fellow…
And his equally splendid sidekick…
…both of whom came over to tell me all about the history of the mallow.
Wow! Remember, Paitient Reader, how I’ve visited these bees, in the Vale For All Seasons, and longed to taste their beautiful buckwheat honey? Well I have, and now, I can, because here it is!
Home again, home again, jiggity jog, straight to the k-k-k-kitchen door…
Sourced from the top of my local watershed — San Gabriel Fault, in Little Tujunga Canyon.

I mean, it isn’t a competition or anything, (blush) but beat THAT charming little trip, as far as local/sustainable food goes. Which, ideally, as here, is not so far at all, really.

Oh, and, of course, I got three fantastic local Washington Navels, and three fantastic Cara Cara Navels, to make Krysia’s recipe, so WATCH THIS SPACE!