Professional Documents
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A.snelling - Flood Geology
A.snelling - Flood Geology
Snelling
Education
PhD, Geology, University of Sydney, Sydney, Australia, 1982
Professional Experience
Dr. Andrew A. Snelling is perhaps one of the world's leading researchers in flood geology.He worked for a
number of years in the mining industry throughout Australia undertaking mineral exploration surveys and field
research. He has also been a consultant research geologist for more than a decade to the Australian Nuclear
Science and Technology Organization and the US Nuclear Regulatory Commission for internationally
funded research on the geology and geochemistry of uranium ore deposits as analogues of nuclear waste
disposal sites..His primary research interests include radioisotopic methods for the dating of rocks, formation of
igneous and metamorphic rocks, and ore deposits. He is one of a controlled number permitted to take rock
samples from the Grand Canyon.He was also a founding member of the RATE group (Radioisotopes and the
Age of The Earth).
Andrew completed a Bachelor of Science degree in Applied Geology with First Class Honours at The University
of New South Wales in Sydney, and graduated a Doctor of Philosophy (in geology) at The University of Sydney,
for his thesis entitled A geochemical study of the Koongarra uranium deposit, Northern Territory,
Australia. Between studies and since, Andrew worked for six years in the exploration and mining
industries in Tasmania, New South Wales, Victoria, Western Australia and the Northern Territory variously as
a field, mine and research geologist. Full-time with the Australian creation ministry from 1983 to 1998, he was
during this time also called upon as a geological consultant to the Koongarra uranium project (1983–1992).
Consequently, he was involved in research projects with various CSIRO (Commonwealth Scientific and
Industrial Research Organisation), ANSTO (Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation)
and University scientists across Australia, and with scientists from the USA, Britain, Japan, Sweden and the
International Atomic Energy Agency. As a result of this research, Andrew was involved in writing scientific
papers that were published in international scientific journals.Andrew has been involved in extensive
creationist research in Australia and overseas, including the formation of all types of mineral deposits,
radioactivity in rocks and radioisotopic dating, and the formation of metamorphic and igneous rocks,
sedimentary strata and landscape features (e.g. Grand Canyon, USA, and Ayers Rock, Australia) within the
creation framework for earth history. As well as writing regularly and extensively in international creationist
publications, Andrew has travelled around Australia and widely overseas (USA, UK, New Zealand, South Africa,
Korea, Indonesia, Hong Kong, China) speaking in schools, churches, colleges and universities, particularly on
the overwhelming scientific evidence consistent with the Global Flood and the Creation.
BEST FLOOD EVIDENCES
High & Dry Sea Creatures Flood Evidence Number One ………………………………………………………………….4
The World’s a Graveyard Flood Evidence Number Two……………………………………………………………………5
Transcontinental Rock Layers Flood Evidence Number Three…………………………………………………………….7
Sand Transported Cross Country Flood Evidence Number Four………………………………………………………….9
No Slow and Gradual Erosion Flood Evidence Number Five ……………………………………………………………11
Rock Layers Folded, Not Fractured Flood Evidence Number Six ……………………………………………………….12
PLATE TECTONICS
A Catastrophic Breakup A Scientific Look at Catastrophic Plate Tectonics ……………………………………………78
Can Catastrophic Plate Tectonics Explain Flood Geology?......................................................................................80
Catastrophic Plate Tectonics: A Global Flood Model of Earth History ………………………………………………….83
SEDIMENTS
Sedimentation Experiments: Nature Finally Catches Up! ………………………………………………………………...89
Regional Metamorphism within a Creation Framework: What Garnet Compositions Reveal ………………………..90
Thirty Miles of Dirt in a Day …………………………………………………………………………………………………..96
The Case of the ‘Missing’ Geologic Time …………………………………………………………………………………..97
The First Atmosphere—Geological Evidences and Their Implications…………………………………………………..99
COAL
How Did We Get All This Coal? ……………………………………………………………………………………………134
Forked Seams Sabotage Swamp Theory ………………………………………………………………………………...135
Coal Beds and Global Flood………………………………………………………………………………………………..136
Coal, Volcanism and Flood…………………………………………………………………………………………………137
The Origin of Oil ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..145
How Fast Can Oil Form?.........................................................................................................................................146
High & Dry Sea Creatures
Flood Evidence Number One
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling on December 7, 2007; last featured September 10, 2008
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If the Global Flood really occurred,
what evidence would we expect to
find? The previous article in this series
gave an overview of the six main
geologic evidences for the Flood. Now
let’s take a closer look at evidence
number one.Wouldn’t we expect to
find rock layers all over the earth that
are filled with billions of dead animals
and plants that were rapidly buried and fossilized in sand, mud, and lime? Of course, and that’s exactly what we find.
Marine Fossils High above Sea Level
It is beyond dispute among geologists that on every continent we find fossils of sea creatures in rock layers which today are
high above sea level. For example, we find marine fossils in most of the rock layers in Grand Canyon. This includes the
topmost layer in the sequence, the Kaibab Limestone exposed at the rim
of the canyon, which today is approximately 7,000–8,000 feet (2,130–
2,440 m) above sea level.1Though at the top of the sequence, this
limestone must have been deposited beneath ocean waters loaded with
lime sediment that swept over northern Arizona (and beyond).Other rock
layers exposed in Grand Canyon also contain large numbers of marine
fossils. The best example is the Redwall Limestone, which commonly
contains fossil brachiopods (a clam-like organism), corals, bryozoans
(lace corals), crinoids (sea lilies), bivalves (types of clams), gastropods
(marine snails), trilobites, cephalopods, and even fish teeth.2These
marine fossils are found haphazardly preserved in this limestone bed.
The crinoids, for example, are found with their columnals (disks) totally
separated from one another, while in life they are stacked on top of one
another to make up their “stems.” Thus, these marine creatures were
catastrophically destroyed and buried in this lime sediment.Fossil
ammonites (coiled marine cephalopods) like this one are found in
limestone beds high in the Himalayas of Nepal. How did marine fossils
get thousands of feet above sea level?Marine fossils are also found high
in the Himalayas, the world’s tallest mountain range, reaching up to
29,029 feet (8,848 m) above sea level.3 For example, fossil ammonites
(coiled marine cephalopods) are found in limestone beds in the
Himalayas of Nepal. All geologists agree that ocean waters must have buried these marine fossils in these limestone beds.
So how did these marine limestone beds get high up in the Himalayas?We must remember that the rock layers in the
Himalayas and other mountain ranges around the globe were deposited during the Flood, well before these mountains were
formed. In fact, many of these mountain ranges were pushed up by earth movements to their present high elevations at the
end of the Flood.
The Explanation
There is only one possible explanation for this phenomenon—the ocean waters at some time in the past flooded over the
continents.Could the continents have then sunk below today’s sea level, so that the ocean waters flooded over them?
No! The continents are made up of lighter rocks that are less dense than the rocks on the ocean floor and rocks in the
mantle beneath the continents. The continents, in fact, have an automatic tendency to rise, and thus “float” on the mantle
rocks beneath, well above the ocean floor rocks.4 This explains why the continents today have such high elevations
compared to the deep ocean floor, and why the ocean basins can hold so much water.So there must be another way to
explain how the oceans covered the continents. The sea level had to rise, so that the ocean waters then flooded up onto—
and over—the continents. What would have caused that to happen?
There had to be, in fact, two mechanisms.
First, if water were added to the ocean, then the sea level would rise.
Scientists are currently monitoring the melting of the polar ice caps because the extra water would cause the sea level to
rise and flood coastal communities. The creation model suggests a source of the extra water.The earth’s crust was split
open all around the globe and water apparently burst forth as fountains from inside the earth and these fountains were open
for 150 days. No wonder the ocean volume increased so much that the ocean waters flooded over the continents.
Second, if the ocean floor itself rose, it would then have effectively “pushed” up the sea level.
Genesis suggests a source of this rising sea floor: molten rock.
The catastrophic breakup of the earth’s crust, , would not only have released huge volumes of water from inside the earth,
but much molten rock.5 The ocean floors would have been effectively replaced by hot lavas. Being less dense than the
original ocean floors, these hot lavas would have had an expanded thickness, so the new ocean floors would have
effectively risen, raising the sea level by more than 3,500 feet (1,067 m). Because today’s mountains had not yet formed,
and it is likely the pre-Flood hills and mountains were nowhere near as high as today’s mountains, a sea level rise of over
3,500 feet would have been sufficient to inundate the pre-Flood continental land surfaces.Toward the end of the Flood,
when the molten rock cooled and the ocean floors sank, the sea level would have fallen and the waters would have drained
off the continents into new, deeper ocean basins. As indicated earlier the mountains being raised at the end of the Flood
and the Flood waters draining down valleys and off the emerging new land surfaces. This is consistent with much evidence
that today’s mountains only very recently rose to their present incredible heights.
The Ocean Floor Rises
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If the Flood, as really occurred, what evidence would we expect to find? The first article in this series overviewed the six
main geologic evidences that testify to the Flood, while the second article discussed evidence number one (see the list
below). Now let’s take a closer look at evidence number two.After noting in Genesis 7 that all the high hills and the
mountains were covered by water and all air-breathing life on the land was swept away and perished, it should be obvious
what evidence we would expect to find.Wouldn’t we expect to find rock layers all over the earth filled with billions of dead
animals and plants that were buried rapidly and fossilized in sand, mud, and lime? Of course, and that’s exactly what we
find. Furthermore, even though the catastrophic geologic activity of the Flood would have waned in the immediate post-
Flood period, ongoing mini-catastrophes would still have produced localized fossil deposits.
Graveyards Around the World
Countless billions of plant and animal fossils are found in extensive “graveyards” where they had to be buried rapidly on a
massive scale. Often the fine details of the creatures are exquisitely preserved.
For example, billions of straight-shelled, chambered nautiloids (figure 2) are found fossilized with other marine creatures in a
7 foot (2 m) thick layer within the Redwall Limestone of Grand Canyon (figure 1).1 This fossil graveyard stretches for 180
miles (290 km) across northern Arizona and into southern Nevada, covering an area of at least 10,500 square miles (30,000
km2). These squid-like fossils are all
different sizes, from small, young
nautiloids to their bigger, older relatives.
Figure 9—Some fish are buried so rapidly that fine details of fins and eye sockets
have been preserved. Photo courtesy of Dr. Andrew Snelling.
Figure 10—This trilobite has been so exquisitely preserved that even the compound
lens systems in their eyes are still available for detailed study. Photo courtesy of Dr.
Andrew Snelling.
Mawsonites spriggi, when discovered, was identified as a fossilized jellyfish (figure
11). It was found in a sandstone bed that covers more than 400 square miles (1,040
km2) of outback South Australia.8 Millions of such soft-bodied marine creatures are
exquisitely preserved in this sandstone bed.
Click to enlarge.
Coal Beds:
Consider another feature—
coal beds. In the northern
hemisphere, the Upper
Carboniferous
(Pennsylvanian) coal beds
of the eastern and Midwest
USA are the same coal
beds, with the same plant
fossils, as those in Britain
and Europe. They stretch
halfway around the globe,
from Texas to the Donetz Basin north of the Caspian Sea in the former USSR.3In the southern hemisphere, the same
Permian coal beds are found in Australia, Antarctica, India, South Africa, and even South America! These beds share the
same kind of plant fossils across the region (but they are different from those in the Pennsylvanian coal beds).
Evidence of Rapid Deposition
Sloped Beds of Sandstone
Figure 6. The Coconino Sandstone layer in Grand Canyon contains sloped layers of
sandstone called cross beds. These beds are remnants of the sand waves
produced by water currents during the Flood.The buff-colored Coconino Sandstone
is very distinctive in the walls of Grand Canyon. It has an average thickness of 315
feet (96 m) and covers an area of at least 200,000 square miles (518,000 km2)
eastward across adjoining states.4 So the volume of sand in the Coconino
Sandstone layer is at least 10,000 cubic miles (41,682 km3).
This layer also contains physical features called cross beds. While the overall layer
of sandstone is horizontal, these cross beds are clearly visible as sloped beds
(Figure 6). These beds are remnants of the
sand waves produced by the water currents
that deposited the sand (like sand dunes, but
underwater) (Figure 7). So it can be
demonstrated that water, flowing at 3–5
miles per hour (4.8–8 km/h), deposited the
Coconino Sandstone as massive sheets of
sand, with sand waves up to 60 feet (18 m)
high.5 At this rate, the whole Coconino
Sandstone layer (all 10,000 cubic miles of sand) would have been deposited in just a few days!Strong, fast-flowing water
currents move sands across the ocean floor as sand
waves or dunes (Figure 7a). As the sand grains are
swept over the dune crests, they fall on the advancing
dune faces to produce sloping sand beds, and on top
of the trailing edges of the dunes in front. The dunes
thus advance over one another, resulting in stacked
sand layers (Figure 7b) with internal sloping beds
(cross beds).
come from far away—the sandstone beds within the Supai Group strata between the Hermit Formation and the Redwall
Limestone. In this case, the sand “wave” remnants point to the southeast, so the sand grains had to have been deposited by
water flowing from a source in the north and west. However, to the north and west of Grand Canyon we find only Redwall
Limestone underneath the Supai Group, so there is no nearby source of quartz sand for these sandstone beds.3 Thus an
incredibly long distance must be postulated for the source of Supai Group sand grains.4
Other Sediment Even Transported Across the Continent
A third layer of sandstone higher in the strata sequence gives us a clue. The Navajo Sandstone of southern Utah, best seen
in the spectacular mesas and cliffs in and around Zion National Park (Figure 2), is well above the Kaibab Limestone, which
forms the rim rock of the Grand Canyon. Like the Grand Canyon sandstones, this sandstone also consists of very pure
quartz sand, giving it a distinctly brilliant white color, and it also contains remnants of sand “waves.”W ithin this sandstone,
we find grains of the mineral zircon, which is relatively easy to trace to its source because zircon usually contains radioactive
uranium. By “dating” these zircon grains, using the
uranium-lead (U-Pb) radioactive method, it has been
postulated that the sand grains in the Navajo Sandstone
came from the Appalachians of Pennsylvania and New
York, and from former mountains further north in
Canada. If this is true, the sand grains were transported
at least 1,800 miles (3000 km) right across North
America.5This “discovery” poses somewhat of a
dilemma for conventional uniformitarian (slow-and-
gradual) geologists, because no known sediment
transport system is capable of carrying sand across the
entire North American continent during the required
millions of years. It must have been water over an area
even bigger than the continent. All they can do is
postulate that some unknown transcontinental river system must have done the job. But even in their scientific belief system
of earth history, it is impossible for such a river to have persisted for millions of years.Yet the evidence is overwhelming that
the water was flowing in one direction. More than half a million measurements have been collected from 15,615 North
American localities, recording water current direction indicators throughout the geologic record. The evidence indicates that
water moved sediments across the entire continent, from the east and northeast to the west and southwest throughout the
so-called Paleozoic.6 This general pattern continued on up into the Mesozoic, when the Navajo Sandstone was deposited.
How could water be flowing across the North American continent consistently for hundreds of millions of years? Absolutely
impossible!The only logical and viable explanation is the global cataclysmic Flood. Only the water currents of a global
ocean, lasting a few months, could have transported such huge volumes of sediments right across the North American
continent to deposit the thick strata sequences which blanket the continent.7The geologic record has many examples of
sediments that did not come from erosion of local, underlying rocks. Rather, the sediments had to have been transported
long distances, in some cases even across continents. This is confirmed by water current direction indicators in these
sedimentary layers, which show a consistent uni-directional flow. However, conjectured transcontinental river systems could
not have operated like that for hundreds of millions of years. Instead, only catastrophic global flooding of the continents over
a few months can explain the huge volumes of sediments transported across the continents.
We would expect to find that these global waters eroded sediments and transported them across whole continents to be
deposited in layers covering vast areas. We have now seen that this is exactly what we find across North America, so there
is no excuse for claiming there is no evidence of a global flood. The global cataclysmic Flood actually happened in the
earth’s history.
No Slow and Gradual Erosion
Flood Evidence Number Five
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling on November 12, 2008; last featured July 21, 2010
Microfossils and microcrystalline calcite—Cretaceous chalk, Ballintoy Harbour, Antrim Coast, Northern Ireland under the
microscope (60x) (photo: Dr. Andrew Snelling)
Scanning electron microscope (SEM) image of coccoliths in the Cretaceous chalk, Brighton, England (photo: Dr Joachim
Scheven)
‘Blooms’ During The Flood
As helpful as they are, these calculations overlook one major relevant issue — these chalk beds were deposited during
the Flood. Creationist geologists may have different views as to where the pre-Flood/Flood boundary is in the geological
record, but the majority would regard these Upper Cretaceous chalks as having been deposited very late in the Flood. That
being the case, the coccoliths and foraminiferal shells that are now in the chalk beds would have to have been produced
during the Flood itself, not in the 1,600–1,700 years of the pre-Flood era as calculated by Woodmorappe, for surely if there
were that many around at the outset of the Flood these chalk beds should have been deposited sooner rather than later
during the Flood event. Similarly, Roth’s calculations of the required quantities potentially being produced in up to 1,000
years may well show that the quantities of calcareous oozes on today’s ocean floors are easily producible in the time-span
since the Flood, but these calculations are insufficient to show how these chalk beds could be produced during the Flood
itself.Nevertheless, both Woodmorappe and Roth recognize that even today coccolith accumulation is not steady-state but
highly episodic, for under the right conditions significant increases in the concentrations of these marine microorganisms can
occur, as in plankton ‘blooms’ and red tides. For example, there are intense blooms of coccoliths that cause ‘white water’
situations because of the coccolith concentrations, 11 and during bloom periods in the waters near Jamaica microorganism
numbers have been reported as increasing from 100,000 per litre to 10 million per litre of ocean water. 18 The reasons for
these blooms are poorly understood, but suggestions include turbulence of the sea, wind, 19 decaying fish,20 nutrients from
freshwater inflow and upwelling, and temperature. 21Without a doubt, all of these stated conditions would have been
generated during the catastrophic global upheaval of the Flood, and thus rapid production of carbonate skeletons by
foraminifera and coccolithophores would be possible. Thermodynamic considerations would definitely not prevent a much
larger biomass such as this being produced, since Schadewald who raised this as a ‘problem’ is clearly wrong. It has been
reported that oceanic productivity 5–10 times greater than the present could be supported by the available sunlight, and it is
nutrient availability (especially nitrogen) that is the limiting factor. 22 Furthermore, present levels of solar ultraviolet radiation
inhibit marine planktonic productivity.23Quite clearly, under cataclysmic Flood conditions, including torrential rain, sea
turbulence, decaying fish and other organic matter, and the violent volcanic eruptions associated with the ‘fountains of the
deep’, explosive blooms on a large and repetitive scale in the oceans are realistically conceivable, so that the production of
the necessary quantities of calcareous ooze to produce the chalk beds in the geological record in a short space of time at
the close of the Flood is also realistically conceivable. Violent volcanic eruptions would have produced copious quantities of
dust and steam, and the possible different mix of gases than in the present atmosphere could have reduced ultraviolet
radiation levels. However, in the closing stages of the Flood the clearing and settling of this debris would have allowed
increasing levels of sunlight to penetrate to the oceans.Ocean water temperatures would have been higher at the close of
the Flood because of the heat released during the cataclysm, for example, from volcanic and magmatic activity, and the
latent heat from condensation of water. Such higher temperatures have been verified by evolutionists from their own studies
of these rocks and deep-sea sediments,24 and would have also been conducive to these explosive blooms of foraminifera
and coccolithophores. Furthermore, the same volcanic activity would have potentially released copious quantities of
nutrients into the ocean waters, as well as prodigious amounts of the CO 2 that is so necessary for the production of the
calcium carbonate by these microorganisms. Even today the volcanic output of CO2 has been estimated at about 6.6 million
tonnes per year, while calculations based on past eruptions and the most recent volcanic deposits in the rock record
suggest as much as a staggering 44 billion tonnes of CO 2 have been added to the atmosphere and oceans in the recent
past (that is, in the most recent part of the post-Flood era).25
The Final Answer
The situation has been known where pollution in coastal areas has contributed to the explosive multiplication of
microorganisms in the ocean waters to peak concentrations of more than 10 billion per litre. 26 Woodmorappe has calculated
that in chalk there could be as many as 3 x 10 13 coccoliths per cubic metre if densely packed (which usually isn’t the case),
yet in the known bloom just mentioned, 10 billion microorganisms per litre of ocean water equates to 10 13 microorganisms
per cubic metre.Adapting some of Woodmorappe’s calculations, if the 10% of the earth’s surface that now contains chalk
beds was covered in water, as it still was near the end of the Flood, and if that water explosively bloomed with
coccolithophores and foraminifera with up to 10 13 microorganisms per cubic metre of water down to a depth of less than 500
metres from the surface, then it would have only taken two or three such blooms to produce the required quantity of
microorganisms to be fossilised in the chalk beds. Lest it be argued that a concentration of 10 13 microorganisms per cubic
metre would extinguish all light within a few metres of the surface, it should be noted that phytoflagellates such as these are
able to feed on bacteria, that is, planktonic species are capable of heterotrophism (they are ‘mixotrophic’). 27 Such bacteria
would have been in abundance, breaking down the masses of floating and submerged organic debris (dead fish, plants,
animals, etc.) generated by the flood. Thus production of coccolithophores and foraminifera is not dependent on sunlight,
the supply of organic material potentially supporting a dense concentration.Since, for example, in southern England there
are three main chalk beds stacked on top of one another, then this scenario of three successive, explosive, massive blooms
coincides with the rock record. Given that the turnover rate for coccoliths is up to two days,28 then these chalk beds could
thus have been produced in as little as six days, totally conceivable within the time framework of the flood. What is certain, is
that the right set of conditions necessary for such blooms to occur had to have coincided in full measure to have explosively
generated such enormous blooms, but the evidence that it did happen is there for all to plainly see in these chalk beds in the
geological record. Indeed, the purity of these thick chalk beds worldwide also testifies to their catastrophic deposition from
enormous explosively generated blooms, since during protracted deposition over supposed millions of years it is straining
credulity to expect that such purity would be maintained without contaminating events depositing other types of sediments.
There are variations in consistency (see Appendix) but not purity. The only additional material in the chalk is fossils of
macroscopic organisms such as ammonites and other molluscs, whose fossilisation also requires rapid burial because of
their size (see Appendix).No doubt there are factors that need to be better quantified in such a series of calculations, but we
are dealing with a cataclysmic Flood, the like of which has not been experienced since for us to study its processes.
However, we do have the results of its passing in the rock record to study, and it is clear that by working from what is known
to occur today, even if rare and catastrophic by today’s standards, we can realistically calculate production of these chalk
beds within the time framework and cataclysmic activity of the Flood, and in so doing respond adequately to the objections
and ‘problems’ raised by the critics.
Geologists are uncovering mounting evidence of asteroids and meteorites that struck the earth during the past. Are these
extraterrestrial missiles somehow related to the initiation of the Flood?
Have you ever wondered what triggered the Flood? Most creation geologists believe that the opening of “the fountains of
the great deep” refers to the breakup of the earth’s crust into plates.1 The subsequent rapid, catastrophic movement of
these plates would have released huge quantities of hot subterranean waters and molten rock into the ocean. As the hot
water gushed through the fractured seafloor, the water flashed into superheated steam and shot high into the atmosphere
as supersonic steam jets, carrying sea water that eventually fell as rain.But what catastrophe might cause the earth’s
crust—many miles thick—to crack? Some have suggested a meteorite or asteroid impact of unprecedented size and
scope.2 Do we find any evidence? Geologists have discovered some gargantuous remnant craters and piles of debris,
leftover from massive impacts that easily fit the bill.
A Smoking Gun in Australia?
One example of an impact powerful enough to trigger
the Flood is the 56-milewide (90 km) Acraman impact
crater in South Australia. It apparently resulted from a
2.5-mile-wide (4 km) asteroid that slammed into the
Outback at almost 16 miles per second (26 km/s)
(Figure 1).3 The explosion would have been
equivalent to the detonation of 50,000–100,000
hydrogen bombs all at once! The impact blasted
some of the pulverised pre-Flood crystalline
basement rocks to sites 280 miles (450 km) away,
and the debris accumulated in a layer 16 inches (40
cm) thick within some of the earliest Flood deposits.4
An asteroid impact—or several simultaneous
impacts—that triggered the Flood may also have
been part of an ongoing, solar-system-wide
catastrophe that lasted for months or years.5 If so, we
would expect to find evidence of many other
meteorites that subsequently hit the earth
duringthe flood. Two lines of evidence can
be used to support this inference: (1) the
rapid rate of past cratering during the Flood,
and (2) the fields of meteorites left by this
bombardment.
Impact Crater Early in the Flood (Figure 1)
A massive asteroid, perhaps 2.5 miles (4
km) wide, slammed into the earth at the start
of the Flood, leaving a 56-mile-wide (90 km)
impact crater in South Australia. Did this
explosion, which equaled 50,000–100,000
hydrogen bombs, help trigger the Flood?
Continuing Impacts Throughout the Flood
Many meteorite impact craters have now
been identified across the earth’s surface.
These have been imprinted and preserved in
layers deposited by the Flood6 and are also
visible on today’s post-Flood land surface,
such as the famous Meteor Crater just east
of Flagstaff in northern Arizona.
Today’s continents were once joined together because some mountain chains, such as the Appalachians (US) and
Caledonians (UK and Scandinavia), are now separated by thousands of miles. But these mountains were not on the original
supercontinent because they are made out of Flood deposits.The only way such mountain chains could form is for the
original supercontinent to break apart, the plates get covered by layers containing dead animals, and then crash together
temporarily. As these plates moved again, they took with them pieces of the mountain chain formed by the collision, one
piece in the US and one piece in the UK and Scandinavia.
Clues to Realign the Pre-Flood Continental Fragments
Today geologists are trying to identify the edges of the continental fragments (or cratons), and then line them up in their
original configuration. This helps them reconstruct the appearance of the original landmass.The Pangaean rearrangement is
generally agreed on, but speculation increases as we go further back in time. For example, secular geologists find rock
layers with large salt and sand deposits and assume these came from deserts that were close to the equator. However,
Flood geologists know those sand layers were deposited underwater, apparently stripped from postulated coastal beaches
around the world at that time.Even though speculation increases the further we go back in time, several reliable clues have
come to geologists’ aid.
Paleomagnetism
One clue is called paleomagnetism. Don’t let the term intimidate you. Since the earth has a magnetic field, minerals that are
magnetic will tend to line up with the earth’s magnetic poles. Whenever lava cools, for instance, those minerals will align
themselves with the points of the compass.Once the rocks harden, geologists can use their alignment to determine the
latitude where the rocks formed. If the landmass is moving quickly over hundreds of miles, different lavas will align in
different magnetic directions as they harden.
Rock Types
Another clue is the physical content of the rocks. There are thousands of different types of rocks, such as huge piles of
certain basalt lavas that can be matched between some continents, and hundreds of ways to measure different rock
contents, including the type of fossils they contain and the radioactive decay within certain minerals. Based on these clues,
geologists can often determine which large deposits once lay next to each other, even after they have moved thousands of
miles apart.
Debris Deposits
Perhaps the most significant clue to line up the continents is the type of sedimentary rock layers that the Flood initially
deposited at the edges of the cratons. These deposits, just above the “basement” rocks, have some distinctive
characteristics that can be lined up between continents.The basement rocks do not have multicellular fossils in them. They
appear to be the originally created rocks, and sediment layers deposited in the pre-Flood world. The remnants are all that
we have left after the Flood waters shaved off the surfaces of the continents.4 The boundary between the pre-Flood and
Flood rocks usually has a distinctive erosion surface, sometimes associated with huge broken fragments of rocks.The huge
fragments, sometimes measuring up to two-thirds of a mile across, represent places where the edge of the pre-Flood
supercontinent collapsed at the initiation of the Flood.5 Huge slabs broke off and cascaded down into deeper waters. The
initial Flood sediments then piled up on top of these debris deposits. The same deposits can be traced along the edge of the
pre-Flood North American fragment.6Others have also noticed these same debris deposits at many other places around the
globe at the same level in the strata sequence.7 They help define the edges of the pre-Flood supercontinent.
The Pre-Flood Super Continent Rodinia
So is there geologic evidence of an earlier supercontinent, which broke apart and its fragments subsequently collided and
coalesced together to form Pangaea, which then broke apart into today’s continents that sprinted into their present
positions? Yes! This earlier supercontinent, which was thus likely the lost pre-Flood world, has been called Rodinia (from the
Russian word rodina, meaning “The Motherland”).What then did Rodinia look like? Geologists are fairly certain about the
basic configuration of the core cratons, but they are still unsettled about many of the details. There are multiple ways to fit
together the fragmentary continental pieces of the puzzle. Remember, we are looking at scattered, damaged, and altered
rocky remnants of the pre-Flood world.Several reconstructions of Rodinia have been published.8 Yet all consider the North
American fragment to be the central piece of the puzzle, and Australia and Eastern Antarctica are placed along the western
edge. So far, nobody can agree on how much of the edges are missing, or the precise location of some fragments, such as
South China or Australia.9 Reconstructing the lost world is very complex. No reconstruction is yet able to produce the one
coherent supercontinent from all the fragments. All such reconstructions must have an element of speculation because so
much was destroyed by the Flood cataclysm.But we do have a reasonable picture of what happened at the catastrophic
initiation of the Flood. Huge plumes of molten rock blasted the underside of the earth’s crust like massive blow-
torches.10 Eventually the crust was ripped apart, and steam and molten rock burst forth. The supercontinent collapsed, with
slivers of land sliding into the ocean at the margins.11 It must have been horrific.
Second, Volcanic Ash Was Mixed with the Top Layer of Sediments
As the Flood deposited its final sediments in the Artesian Basin, an arc of volcanoes belched ash into the shallow sea, which
mixed with the sediments, which included pyrite, feldspar, and organic debris.
Third, the Layers Were Lifted Up, Dried, and Weathered Quickly
A complicated sequence of chemical reactions then occurred. First, water percolated down and reacted with the pyrite,
making the water acidic. This acidic water then reacted with the feldspar to release the silica (the basic ingredient in opals).
Conditions around 164 feet (50 m) became just right (alkaline, not acidic) for the minerals to break down further. The silica
could precipitate as precious opal (*) only in tight spaces, such as along fractures and faults.
The sequence of events and chemical reactions necessary to form opal gets quite complicated. But here is a summary.
First, as surface water percolated deep downward through porous sandstones and faults, oxygen reacted with the pyrite in
the sedimentary layers. As a result, the water became acidic. Then the acidic groundwater reacted with the feldspar and
volcanic ash to produce a clay mineral known as kaolinite, along with sulfate minerals and silica.The minerals trapped in the
confined spaces, fractures, and faults began to break down. Something very significant happened at the water level where
the chemical conditions became alkaline (not acidic), around 164 feet (50 m) deep: further mineral breakdowns left iron
oxides and even more silica, which precipitated as precious opal.In summary, the formation of precious opal required a
unique combination of conditions. First it needed sediments that contained silica. Then it needed a chemical environment
with strong acidic conditions to release the silica. Yet this silica had to appear in confined places so the acid and base could
react (called neutralization) to produce the solid gems (by precipitation). This final step could occur only under alkaline
conditions, as opposed to the acidic conditions that prevailed earlier. Without the final alkaline conditions, only common opal
is formed. What a rare combination of events!Chemical “fingerprinting” of opals has confirmed that the Great Artesian Basin
provided all these conditions—in the necessary sequence. The different precious opal deposits have different trace
elements, depending on the local sediments where they came from. Other trace elements in the opals reflect the volcanic
ash that later became part of the gems.8How could the Flood explain all these events? Massive sediments were deposited,
with copious amounts of volcanic debris mixed into them, followed by a period of intense drying out and weathering. At the
same time, all the right conditions at the right time had to be met to rearrange various chemical compounds in the weathered
rock layers to produce Australia’s precious opals.
Where Does Opal Formation Fit in the Flood Account?
From what may be gleaned from the sedimentary layers of the rock record, it appears that the Earth’s sea level rose and
peaked during the laying of the first Flood deposits (the Cambrian). The ocean then fluctuated up and down until the final
deposits were laid, reaching the last peak when the Upper Cretaceous layers (highest dinosaur layers) were laid.10Thus it
seems possible that the water level peaked for the last time when these deposits were laid. This certainly makes sense of
the wiping out of the last dinosaurs as they scrambled to find a safe place to survive the rising waters and left footprints in
the Winton Formation (among the main Cretaceous deposits where opals are now found).11The Flood waters then retreated
from off the Australian continent, leaving the ground to dry out and intensely weather. During this intense drying phase at the
very end of the Flood the unique combination of materials and environmental and chemical conditions produced the
precious opals. None of these events required millions of years, as modern experiments confirm.
duha127 | Thinkstockphotos.com
Standing guard along the rim of a natural amphitheater is an army of tall columns, called hoodoos. Conditions were just right
after the flood to form them rapidly.
It is hard to capture in photographs the exquisite beauty of such a
vast and devastated landscape. Particularly stunning are the
delicate hoodoos, slender columns with balancing “hats” on them
that look ready to fall, and sometimes do!Native American
legends say these statues were the Legend People—animals
that took on human form but committed a wicked deed and were
turned into stone. Some were standing in rows, some sitting, and
some clutching each other. You can still see the red paint on their
faces.Evolutionists and Flood geologists both say these colorful
layers formed at the bottom of a lake and that tectonic forces
later pushed up the layers, exposing them to erosion.
Evolutionists say this erosion occurred over millions of years.How
Did It Really Happen?Yes, these layers were deposited by water,
and catastrophic earth movements exposed them to rapid
erosion. Before looking at the details, it is important to
understand that Bryce is not, strictly speaking, a canyon! It’s
actually the edge of a high plateau (Paunsaugunt Plateau, an
arm of the even greater Colorado Plateau). This plateau rose up
at the end of the Flood as the last waters receded, and Bryce
was eroded into its side.The top of this plateau consists of the
pink and white layers of the Claron Formation. The pink is due to the iron and manganese in the sediments, which reacted
with oxygen. The hoodoos were carved out of these layers.The Claron Formation was likely among the first sediment layers
deposited in the very early post-Flood period immediately after the last Flood waters receded. This plateau region was rising
up around the same time, creating natural dams that produced massive lakes in the continent’s interior (including the Green
River lakes of Utah, Wyoming, and Colorado). The waters eventually broke through the dams, surging away from the edges
of the Paunsaugunt Plateau (see figure).1 Subsequently the water draining out of the bases of the plateau would have
completed the carving of the cliffs and amphitheaters at Bryce (a process of headward erosion technically known as
sapping).2Conditions at the edges of these cliffs are optimal for erosion. The layers of the Claron Formation vary in
hardness, with softer mudstones alternating with harder sandstones or limestones. When the mudstones wash away, other
rocks collapse more readily and wash away, too. The steep slopes increase the speed and energy of the rainwater running
off the top. In the early years after the Flood, superstorms ravaged the earth and eroded it much faster than we see today.
As the rain passes through the atmosphere, it becomes weakly acidic. That acid eats away at the sediments, especially the
limy layers. Furthermore, the sedimentary layers at Bryce contain several sets of parallel cracks called joints. Water enters
these cracks, where it freezes at night and thaws during the day—today the region experiences 200 freeze-thaw cycles per
year—further weakening the rock layers.As the water flows downward, it picks up debris and scours any softer rocks it
encounters, creating gullies. The gullies widen into canyons, exposing more surfaces to erosion along their vertical cracks.
Further freeze-thaw cycles expand the cracks and peel off side layers, especially of the softer rocks.
Normally we would expect weathered rocks to collapse into piles, rather than leaving behind tall, slender columns. The key
to producing these marvels is putting a harder rock layer (a “cap”) on top of the soft layers. This prevents the soft rocks from
wearing away so quickly. The “caps” on Thor’s Hammer and The Hunter, for example, are made of harder rock.
How Were Hoodoos Formed?
The Flood left behind massive lakes in the continent’s interior, where thick deposits settled at the bottom. Later, these lakes
broke free, catastrophically draining away the edges of the lakes.Water continued to seep out of the lower rocks at the edge
of the plateau, taking more rock material with them (a process called sapping). The steep walls eroded quickly, without
losing their shape.The steep slopes increased the speed of rainwater, which fell in heavy downpours after the Flood. The
acidic water entered cracks and ate away the soft layers. Freeze-thaw cycles expanded the cracks and peeled off the sides.
Normally weathered rocks would collapse into piles. But a harder top layer (“cap”) kept the softer layers from wearing away
so quickly, leaving behind slender hoodoos.
In the first scenario, molten rock (magma) deep in the earth’s interior, containing beryllium and water, forced its way upward
toward the earth’s surface and was squeezed into near-surface rocks, where it crystallized and cooled as granite. The last
stage of this process produced pegmatite veins, which were rich in water and often beryllium. Wherever the molten granite
and pegmatite veins (particularly the latter) came into contact with black shales and other rocks rich in chromium and
vanadium, the hot water mixed the three essential ingredients to form emeralds.In Colombia there is no evidence of these
granites or pegmatites. Instead, the emeralds are found within veins and fractured rocks along faults. The process of
forming these high-quality emeralds began when hot groundwaters mixed with salt beds deep in the earth, causing the
water to become highly alkaline and salty. Then the hot water, filled with various dissolved elements like beryllium, moved
up along the faults and fractures into the shales.The third scenario took place as sedimentary rocks were crumpled and
squeezed by earth movements. Water was already in these sediment layers, as the heat and pressure metamorphosed the
rocks into schists. Fault zones developed during these earth movements, which provided conduits for heated waters to
dissolve the required elements and form emeralds.
When Were Emerald Formed?
It is clear that the formation of emeralds was closely linked to major earth movements and rising waters during mountain-
building. But the required beryllium also needed to be concentrated near the hot waters and then brought into contact with
chromium and vanadium. This rare juxtaposition explains why emerald deposits occurred in so few places.These findings
help us to place emerald deposits within the Creation-Flood framework of earth history. The global Flood involved a series
of catastrophic plate movements and collisions, each step of which would explain the different scenarios to form these
gems.6When the Flood event began, the pre-Flood supercontinent was torn into pieces. The catastrophic collision of these
jostling crustal plates caused new mountains to rise, with the accompanying formation of the granites and metamorphic
rocks associated with the creation of new emeralds.7The first mountains built early in the Flood year would have been
deeply eroded, as the subsequent water movements scoured all previous sedimentary deposits. Any emerald deposits were
then exposed and washed into new locations. This may explain why there are so few emeralds within early Flood deposits,
such as those in Madagascar, Australia, and the United States, and why these are so small.On the other hand, the emeralds
in mountains built late in the Flood, even though partially eroded by the Flood waters retreating off the continents, would be
more likely to survive. This is the case in Colombia, where the shales were formed so late in the process that they were not
even metamorphosed. In this marvelous way, post-Flood peoples would have access to this precious stone, despite the
cataclysmic destruction of the old earth.Since emeralds are likely products of the Flood, they aren’t mentioned in the
Scriptures until the time of the Exodus. By then, post-Flood populations had migrated from Babel to places where they found
emeralds.If this interpretation is correct, the creation worldview explains why emeralds are so rare. It also may explain
another reason why emeralds were in John’s vision of the New Jerusalem. Three scenarios have been proposed to explain
how the necessary ingredients of emeralds came together . . .Rise of Magma To Form Granite Veins: Molten rock deep in
the earth’s interior, containing beryllium and water, squeezes into near-surface rocks. Emeralds form wherever the magma
comes into contact with black shales and other surface rocks rich in chromium and vanadium.
Rise of Hot Groundwater Along Faults: Hot groundwaters mix with salt beds deep in the earth. Then the hot water, filled with
dissolved elements like beryllium, moves up along faults and fractures into shales and other rocks containing chromium and
vanadium.
Fracturing of Metamorphic Rocks: Water erodes different rocks that contain the necessary minerals, and then the water
deposits them in sediments. Pressure from earth movements converts these sedimentary layers into metamorphic rocks.
Continuing earth movements then fracture these rock layers, creating conduits for heated water to dissolve and mix the
ingredients.
. . . and the global Flood provided the mountain-building forces necessary for all three scenarios!
The Geology of Israel Within the Creation-Flood Framework of History: 1. The Pre-Flood Rocks
1. The pre-Flood Rocks
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling and Dallel Gates on September 8, 2010
Abstract
Precambrian (pre-Flood) schists,
gneisses, and related metamorphic
rocks, intruded by granites outcrop
in the Elat area of southern Israel.
Their radioisotope ages range from
800–813 Ma to 600 Ma. Also, just
to the north of Elat is the Timna
Igneous Complex, a 610–625 Ma
series of granitic intrusions. All
these rock units across this region were then intruded along fractures by swarms of dikes. Together these metamorphic and
igneous rocks form the northernmost part of the Arabian-Nubian Shield, which would have likely been a section of the pre-
Flood supercontinent Rodinia, established during the creation. It is thus envisaged that this cataclysmic rate of formation of
these rocks during an episode of accelerated radioisotope decay accounts for their apparent long history when wrongly
viewed in the context of today’s slow process rates. Unconformably overlying these Precambrian crystalline basement rocks
are terminal Precambrian conglomerates, arkoses and interbedded, explosively-erupted volcanics that were obviously
deposited by catastrophic debris avalanches as the pre-Flood supercontinent began to break up, with accompanying
igneous activity that coincided with the bursting forth of the fountains of the great deep. It is envisaged that another episode
of accelerated radioisotope decay must have begun months previously, the released heat progressively increasing so as to
initiate the igneous activity that ultimately triggered the renting apart of the pre-Flood supercontinent at the onset of the
Flood cataclysm. The pre-Flood/Flood boundary in southern Israel is thus determined as the major unconformity between
the Precambrian crystalline basement and the overlying terminal Precambrian conglomerates, arkoses and volcanics,
almost identical to that boundary as determined in the U.S. Southwest. The few 210Po radiohalos found in some of the
basement granitic rocks are likely due to the basinal fluids that flowed from the basal Flood sediments when heated by burial
under the overlying thick, rapidly-accumulated sequence of Flood sediments.
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Keywords: Israel, geology, pre-Flood,
Precambrian, schists, gneisses, granites, dikes,
radioisotope ages, radiohalos, Arabian-Nubian
Shield, conglomerates, volcanics, accelerated
radioisotope decay, unconformity, pre-
Flood/Flood boundary
Introduction
Of the many countries whose geology would be
useful to understand within the creation-Flood
framework of earth history it would be Israel.
Israel is the land in which so many post-Flood
events occurred. Understanding the geology of
Israel would thus provide background to those
events, and potential insights as to where and
how they happened. However, there is also the
possibility some of the early post-Flood events
may correspond to geologic events responsible
for specific rock formations, and therefore date
those rock layers within the creation chronology.
The land of Israel certainly did not exist in its
present form prior to the Flood, which totally
restructured and re-shaped the earth’s crust and
surface. For example, the Dead Sea trough and
Jordan River valley lie along a major north-south
fault zone, a narrow system of faults called the
Dead Sea Transform Fault, which is the primary geologic structure in Israel (fig 1). This fault system extends today from the
major fold mountains of southern Turkey southward through Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Israel and the Gulf of Aqaba to the
zone of pronounced rift faulting in the Red Sea and beyond into Africa. The Dead Sea Transform Fault marks the boundary
between two enormous lithospheric plates, the Arabian plate to the east, and the African plate to the west (fig. 1). Rock
types and geologic structures on both sides of this enormous horizontal-slip fault suggest that the Arabian plate has moved
northward horizontally by about 95 km (60 miles) relative to its original position against the African plate.
It is because of this and other dramatic evidence of major movements of the earth’s lithospheric plates in the past having
shaped the earth’s surface geology, composed in many places on the continents of fossil-bearing sedimentary rock layers
which were deposited by the Flood, that the Flood must have been a global tectonic catastrophe. Therefore, the model for
the Flood event adopted here is catastrophic plate tectonics (Austin et al. 1994; Baumgardner 2003). A fuller treatment of
the application of that model to the geologic record within the creation-Flood framework of earth history is provided by
Snelling (2009). That treatment also includes discussion of the criteria for determining the pre-Flood/Flood boundary in the
geologic record, which is also applicable to the descriptive overview here of the pre-Flood geology of Israel.
Fig. 1. Geologic structure map of Israel and its adjoining neighbors showing major faults and folds (after Garfunkel 1978).
Pre-Flood Rock Units
Fig. 2 is a fairly detailed map of
the geology of the southern half
of Israel (Sneh et al 1998) where
pre-Flood rocks outcrop. Fig. 3 is
a generalized stratigraphic chart
showing the succession of rock
units across Israel (Bartov and
Arkin 1980; Ilani, Flexer, and
Kronfeld 1987). The only
Precambrian crystalline
basement rocks at the base of
the stratigraphic succession are
in the extreme south of Israel,
around Elat. A more detailed
geological map of that area is
shown in Fig. 4.
These pre-Flood crystalline
basement rocks consist of
granitic and metamorphic rocks.
Garfunkel (1980) provides a
comprehensive description of
these rocks, dividing them into
the Elat and Roded associations
(or terrains), and the Timna
Igneous Complex (table 1).
The Elat Association (or Terrain)
Just to the south and west of Elat
(fig. 4) outcrops consist of Elat
Schist, the Taba Gneiss, the
Shahmon Metabasites, the Elat
Granite Gneiss and the Elat
Granite (Garfunkel 1980;
Halpern and Tristan 1981;
Kröner, Eyal and Eyal 1990)
(table 1). The relationships
between these rock units are
depicted in the cross-section in
Fig. 5.
The Elat Schist has been
determined stratigraphically as
the oldest rock unit, which has
been confirmed by an Rb-Sr
isochron age determination of
807±35 Ma (Halpern and Tristan
1981), and by zircon U-Pb age
determinations of 800±13 Ma
and 813±7 Ma (Eyal, Eyal, and
Kroner 1991; Kröner, Eyal, and
Eyal 1990). It is a monotonous
formation which consists primarily of a mosaic of quartz, plagioclase (oligoclase-andesine), biotite, and some muscovite in
variable proportions, with minor intercalations of impure quartzitic layers up to 10 cm thick. Mineralogical and geochemical
data support a pelitic or shaly-graywacke (semipelitic) origin for most of this unit (Eyal 1980), which is estimated to be 5–
10 km thick normal to the strike of the schistosity, and which has experienced prograde regional metamorphism well into the
amphibolite facies, but of the low pressure (Abukuma) type, similar to other parts of the Arabian-Nubian Shield (Shimron and
Zwart 1970). The lowest grade rocks, within the biotite isograd, occur in the north and are biotite-muscovite-chlorite garnet-
bearing schists. Most of the Elat Schist consists of rocks within the garnet (almandine) isograd and does not contain primary
chlorite. A small area is within the staurolite isograd, while cordierite occurs in even smaller areas. Andalusite occurs in the
latter two zones, while primary muscovite is uncommon, in contrast to the lower grade rocks. The cordierite-staurolite
assemblage of the highest grade rocks indicates maximum temperatures in the range of 550–650°C, and pressures of 2–
5 kbar, equivalent to a depth of about 7–15 km (Ganguly 1972; Winkler 1979). Mineral analyses have been used by
Matthews et al. (1989) to calculate, on the basis of continuous reaction exchange geothermobarometry (Mg/Fe between
garnet and biotite; Ca between garnet and plagioclase), that conditions for a segment of the pressure-temperature path of
the high grade staurolite-cordierite-sillimanite zone assemblages were 580–600°C and 3.8–4.6 kbar. The schists bear
evidence of four stages of mineral growth and deformation. The Elat Schist was intruded by a variety of plutonic rock units,
now mostly gabbroic to granitic orthogneisses, the most prominent being the Taba Gneiss and the Elat Granite Gneiss.
Fig. 2. Detailed geologic map of the southern half of Israel, from the Dead Sea to Elat on the Red Sea and encompassing
the Negev (left) (after Sneh et al. 1998). The only Precambrian (pre-Flood) rocks are found in the outlined areas enlarged in
Figs. 4 and 6. Details of most of the rock units on the map are listed in the legend (below).
The Taba Gneiss is a foliated and lineated, medium-grained quartz-diorite gneiss (fig. 4 and table 1), consisting of quartz
(25%), plagioclase (oligoclase) (50–60%), and biotite, rarely with some hornblende or microcline (Garfunkel 1980; Halpern
and Tristan 1981). The rock is usually uniform, but occasionally has an indistinct coarse layering. Contacts with the schists
are sharp. Its texture is dominated by elongated aggregates of the main constituent minerals, which produce the
pronounced lineation and moderate to weak foliation. Grain sizes are very variable. The texture seems to indicate formation
from a coarse-grained tonalitic pluton, followed by metamorphism and incomplete post-deformational recrystallization. To
the west of Elat this gneiss is intensely deformed in a broad shear zone so the rock has a schistose appearance and has
been mapped as a “tectonic schist” (Kröner, Eyal, and Eyal 1990). Ages have been determined by zircon U-Pb analyses at
780±10 Ma and 770±9 Ma for this gneiss and this schist respectively (Kröner, Eyal, and Eyal 1990), and of 779±8 Ma and
782±9 Ma for the gneiss and 768±9 Ma for the schist (Eyal, Eyal, and Kröner 1991). These ages are indistinguishable within
the error margins, so this confirms the field interpretation that the tectonic schist represents a strongly sheared variety of the
Taba Gneiss.
Fig. 3. A generalized
stratigraphic chart showing the
succession of rock units (their
names and geologic ages)
across Israel from south (right)
to north (left) (after Bartov and
Arkin 1980; Ilani et al. 1987).
The Elat Granite Gneiss was
formed from granitic plutons
emplaced into the pelitic Elat
Schist and the Taba Gneiss,
and also from small tabular
bodies emplaced in the Taba
Gneiss (Garfunkel 1980;
Halpern and Tristen 1981). It is
composed of about equal
amounts of quartz, plagioclase
(oligoclase) and alkali feldspar,
with biotite accounting for 5–
15% of the rock. The main
minerals, especially quartz and
biotite, tend to form elongated
aggregates. The texture is
very variable and displays
varying grades of
recrystallization due to
deformation (Heinmann et al.
1995). The contacts with the
surrounding rocks are
generally concordant, and
often accompanied by
feldspathization of the
adjacent rocks. This aureole,
and the occurrence in places
of schist xenoliths, indicates
that the original granite was
emplaced into already
metamorphosed Elat Schist.
Foliation and lineation vary
from indistinct to very
prominent, but lineations are generally better developed. Both the lineations and foliations of the gneiss are parallel to the
contacts and to structures in the enclosing rocks. Single grain zircon U-Pb determinations yield a mean 207Pb/206Pb age of
744±5 Ma, slightly younger than the Taba Gneiss and thus confirming the field relationships.
The Shahmon Metabasites intrude the Elat Schist and comprise a suite of coarse- to medium-grained metamorphosed
plutonic rocks that originally consisted of a layered and differentiated intrusion a few hundred meters thick. They form a
diverse range of compositions, from hornblende metagabbro to biotite hornblende metadiorite (Heinmann et al. 1995), but
commonly consist of plagioclase (andesine-labradorite) and amphiboles. Variations in the amounts of these minerals and in
grain size produce bands and layers less than 1 cm to many meters thick. A border zone consists of well-layered rocks
having a biotite- and quartz-dioritic composition, and near the borders the metabasites contain interbeds of schist. This
banding, layering and border facies are interpreted as a result of crystal accumulation and gross differentiation of the original
intrusion. The occurrence of actinolite and plagioclase, but no epidote, in these rocks indicates metamorphism of them
reached low amphibolite facies, which is compatible with their position close to the almandine isograd in the surrounding
schists. Foliation and mineral orientation are poorly or moderately developed, except in the mica-rich layers and in the
border zone where the structure is concordant with that of the enclosing schists. Originally thought to be the oldest plutonic
assemblage of the area with primary igneous layering well preserved, abundant elongated xenoliths of foliated Elat Schist
indicate that the diorite-gabbro intrusion post dated at least part of the schist deformation. This is confirmed by single-grain
zircon U-Pb age determinations of 640±12 to 644±11 Ma (Kröner, Eyal and Eyal 1990), and of 640±10 Ma (Eyal, Eyal and
Kröner 1991). Amphiboles from this metabasite also yielded a mean Ar-Ar plateau age of 632 Ma (Heimann et al. 1995) and
an imprecise Ar-Ar isochron age of 625±88 Ma (due to the presence of excess Ar) (Cosca, Shimron, and Caby 1999). These
age determinations are thus consistent with the field evidence that this suite of mafic plutonic rocks intrudes and crosscuts
the foliation of the older host Elat Schist, even though these metabasites show varying degrees of deformation and
recystallization that occurred subsequent to their intrusion.
Fig. 4. The Precambrian
(pre-Flood) crystalline
basement (metamorphic
and igneous) rocks in the
Elat area of southernmost
Israel (after Garfunkel
1980; Sneh et al. 1998).
The locations of the
samples collected from
Shehoret Canyon for the
radiohalos study are shown
in the far north of the map
area.
Straight and rather steeply-
dipping bands of lineated
hornblende-bearing
schistose rocks cross all
rock types already
described above. They are
up to a few meters wide
and a few hundred meters
long, strike E-W to NE-SW,
and tend to form swarms.
Bentor (1961) interpreted
these bands as
metamorphosed dikes.
They consist now of
plagioclase (andesine) (up
to 60%), biotite (20–30%),
and hornblende (10–20%),
with quartz minor or
absent, and sphene,
apatite, and iron oxides as
usual accessories. This
mineralogy indicates
metamorphism in the low
amphibolite facies, which is
generally not much
different from the grade of
the enclosing pelitic
schists. Cohen et al. (2000)
and Katz et al. (2004)
determined that the original
chemical composition of
these dikes was andesite,
which was little changed by
this metamorphism, except
where hot fluids had
caused minor alteration,
mainly along the contacts
with the host rocks. The
texture consists of a
granoblastic mosaic, with
the mafic minerals
arranged in layers or
sheaves. Grain size is
uniform. Lineation is very well developed and mostly parallel to that in the enclosing rocks. Good foliation is sometimes
developed. The fabrics are conspicuously parallel to the walls of the dikes, but sometimes are deformed and deviate by up
to 20°–30° from the walls. These relationships indicate that the dikes were intruded after the development of the schistosity,
and after folding of the contact with the granitic gneiss. Subsequently a penetrative lineation was imposed on all rocks. This
lineation was clearly produced during metamorphism of the dikes, and is thus younger than the foliation of the pelitic schists.
This late deformation was inhomogeneous, being very strong in the dikes themselves, and often also in the adjacent granitic
gneiss, but mild in the pelitic schists even immediately adjacent to the dikes where the older schistosity survived. Heimann
et al. (1995) obtained 40Ar/39Ar total-gas ages of 495–592 Ma for amphiboles and 446 Ma and 316–336 Ma (average
327 Ma) for biotites, compared with 40Ar/39Ar plateau ages of 546±3 Ma to 596±2 Ma (amphiboles) and 369±2 Ma to
389±1 Ma (biotites). Such a broad range of ages was interpreted as implying two thermal events affecting these dikes
subsequent to their intrusion—the first coinciding with intrusion of the Elat Granite (recorded by the amphiboles), and a
much later thermal event (recorded by the biotites). However, there are two generations of these metamorphosed andesite
dikes in the Roded area, one which is discordant to the metamorphic structure of the country rocks and which intrudes the
Roded Quartz-Diorite, and the other which is concordant to the metamorphic structure but which does not intrude the Roded
Quartz-Diorite (Katz et al. 1998, 2004). Since this diorite yields zircon U-Pb ages of 634±2 Ma (Katz et al. 1998) and
630±3 Ma (Stein and Goldstein 1996), these andesite dikes must have been intruded respectively just prior to, and just after,
~632 Ma (Katz et al. 2004).
Fig. 5. A schematic geologic
cross-section depicting the
relationships between the various
metamorphic and igneous
Precambrian (pre-Flood)
basement rock units in the Elat
area of southernmost Israel (after
Garfunkel 1980). The symbols
and colors for the rock units are
the same as in Fig. 4.
The Elat Granite, which outcrops
to the west and north of Elat (fig. 4), forms several undeformed plutons of red porphyritic granite consisting of very sodic
plagioclase (up to 50%), microcline (15–30%), and quartz (about 25%), with small quantities of biotite and some muscovite,
and apatite, zircon and iron oxides as minor accessories (Garfunkel 1980; Halpern and Tristen 1981). The texture of this
calc-alkaline granite is generally equigranular, with no foliation and almost no mineral lineation. The coexistence of sodic
plagioclase with non-perthitic microcline (K-feldspar) indicates sub-solvus crystallization at pressures exceeding 3–5 kbar,
that is, at a depth of 10–15 km (Seck 1971). At such pressures crystallization of plagioclase before quartz indicates a low
(few %) water content (Wyllie et al. 1976). The granite near the contacts is very contaminated. Migmatites are developed
along some contacts with the schists, while contacts with the metabasites and Taba Gneiss are characterized by fracturing
of the host rocks which are invaded by apophyses of granite. Feldpathization is common along the contacts. The plutons of
the Elat Granite are grossly concordant with the regional structure of the enclosing rocks in spite of small scale
complications of contacts. The metamorphics tend to dip away from the granite plutons, suggesting some shouldering aside
of the country rocks by the granite bodies, which were thus intruded after deformation of the schists and gneisses (fig. 5).
This is confirmed by Rb-Sr age determinations (Halpern and Tristen 1981). Several whole-rock analyses of the granite
plotted on a 590 Ma reference isochron, while the constituent minerals yielded a mineral isochron age of 597±1 Ma.
Subsequently, Stein and Goldstein (1996) obtained a Rb-Sr isochron age for the Elat Granite of 600 Ma, while Cosca,
Shimron, and Caby (1999) obtained an Ar-Ar plateau age of 597±1 Ma for biotite from the Elat Granite.
The Roded Association (or Terrain)
This rock suite has been relatively little studied. Garfunkel (1980) reported that there are hardly any rock types in common
with the spatially adjacent Elat Association. Furthermore, the structural trend in the Roded Association rocks is close to N-S,
almost perpendicular to that found in the rocks of the Elat Association. The distribution of the main Roded rock types is
shown in Fig. 4 and their spatial relationships in Fig. 5. The undifferentiated metamorphics include schists, gneisses, and
migmatites. Table 1 lists the main Roded rock types.
The schists are variable in composition. In the north they consist essentially of plagioclase (andesine), biotite and
hornblende, though some layers contain little or no biotite. In the south the schists consist of sodic plagioclase, quartz,
biotite, and some muscovite, while hornblende is rare or absent. Garnet is often present. Some beds contain more than 50%
quartz. Secondary epidote, chlorite and sericite are widespread. The texture consists of equigranular granoblastic mosaics.
The southern schists are obviously pelitic metasediments somewhat similar to those of the Elat Association and have even
been designated as Elat Schist by Gutkin and Eyal (1998), whereas those in the north are quite different and may be meta-
volcanics. K-Ar dating of biotite from a schist sample yielded an age of 715±9 Ma (Katz et al. 1998).
Table 1. Precambrian crystalline basement rock units in southern Israel.
Geographic
Rock Units Constituents Radioisotope Ages
Region
609±10 Ma
(zircon U-Pb)
Alkali granite Perthite, orthoclase, albite and quartz, with biotite 592±7 Ma (Rb-Sr isochron)
610±8 Ma
(zircon U-Pb)
Monzodiorite Plagioclase, orthoclase, amphibole and biotite 592±7 Ma (Rb-Sr isochron)
Elat Association Elat Granite Quartz, oligoclase and alkali feldspar, with 5– 744±5 Ma
(or Terrain) Gneiss 15% biotite (zircon U-Pb)
Quartz, oligoclase and biotite, rarely with 768±9 Ma to 782±9 Ma
Taba Gneiss hornblende or microcline (zircon U-Pb)
Fig. 6. Location and general geologic maps of, with two geologic cross-sections through, the Timna Igneous Complex in the
Mt. Timna area of southernmost Israel (after Beyth et al. 1994a). The locations of the samples collected for the radiohalos
study are shown.The Timna Igneous Complex is exposed over an area of about 20 km2 around Mt. Timna (fig. 6). The alkali
granite (and syenite) make up the majority of these exposures, occupying the topographically elevated parts. The lower
elevations surrounding the alkali granite are built of olivine norite blocks, typically 30 × 30 meters, which are most probably
xenoliths, engulfed by monzodiorite with diffuse contacts. The monzodiorites are very heterogeneous and appear to be
differentiated from olivine norite to amphibole monzonite (Shpitzer, Beyth, and Matthews 1991). These are associated with
small alkali granite stocks, while the massive part of the alkali granite and syenite overlie the monzodiorite. All these rocks
are intruded into the porphyritic granite (fig. 6), which occurs as blocks of varying sizes. The youngest plutonic rock is the
quartz monzodiorite which contains numerous xenoliths of all the previously mentioned (earlier) rock types. The dikes
intrude this plutonic complex in three distinctive generations (Beyth et al. 1994a). The oldest one is in a N-S direction, the
intermediate and dominant one is in an ENE direction, and the youngest in a NW direction (fig. 6).
Zircon U-Pb dating determinations confirm the sequence in which the intrusions were emplaced (table 1) as gleaned from
the field evidence outlined above. The porphyritic granite yielded an age of 625±5 Ma, and is thus clearly the oldest unit
exposed at Timna (Beyth et al. 1994a). Similar ages were obtained for the olivine norite (611±10 Ma), monzodiorite
(610±8 Ma), and the alkali granite (609±10 Ma), consistent with the interpretation that these are comagmatic (Beyth et al.
1994a). The quartz monzodiorite, the youngest plutonic intrusive based on the field evidence, yielded a zircon U-Pb age of
599.3±2.0 Ma, averaged from 14 grains (Beyth and Reischmann 1996). Rb-Sr data for samples of the 610 Ma olivine norite,
monzodiorite and alkali granite yield an apparent isochron age of 581 Ma with a high MSWD of 8.5 (Beyth et al. 1994a),
which is very similar to the 592±7 Ma Rb-Sr isochron age obtained by Halpern and Tristan (1981) for Timna granitic
rocks.Based on whole-rock major, trace and rare earth element, and isotopic, geochemical analyses, Beyth et al. (1994a)
concluded that the 625 Ma porphyritic granite is a typical calc-alkaline I-type subsolvus granite with volcanic arc or collisional
affinities, which was probably generated by anatexis of slightly older crust. After an apparent transitional period from such an
orogenic collisional tectonic regime, a crustal extensional tectonic regime was initiated, in which a mantle-derived
monzodiorite, or sanukitoid (Stern, Hansen, and Shirey 1989), magma intruded the porphyritic granite at 610 Ma, forming a
stratified magmatic cell. Olivine norite formed as cumulates at the bottom of the cell and were later brought up as xenoliths
by late monzodioritic injections into this cell. The alkali granite formed by fractionation from this mantle-derived, LILE-
enriched sanukitoid magma.This interpretation that the olivine norite, monzodiorite and alkali granite are comagmatic is
based on their field relationships and on several other lines of evidence (Beyth et al. 1994a ; Shpitzer, Beyth, and Matthews
1991). First, these are the same 610 Ma age, within the analytical uncertainty. Second, their Nd and Pb isotopic
compositions are consistent with the interpretation of consanguinity. Lastly, their ancillary chemical data support this
interpretation. These include similar K/Rb in both the monzodiorite and alkali granite, both of which are distinct from the
older porphyritic granite. Furthermore, incompatible element abundances such as Nb, Ta, Th, and Yb are inversely
correlated as indices of fractionation. Thus it was concluded that the alkali granite was fractionated from the monzodiorite
magma, either as a consequence of crystal fractionation or liquid immiscibility. Additionally, geothermobarometric studies
using mineral chemistries indicate temperatures in the range 500–600°C and pressures less than 5 kbar for all these rock
types (Shpitzer et al. 1991).The quartz monzodiorite, which is the youngest plutonic rock in the complex, suggests that this
monzodioritic intrusion event ended with the intrusion of the rhyolite, andesite and rhyolite/andesite (composite) dikes (Beyth
et al. 1994a). These younger hypabyssal intrusions have chemical compositions that plot with the monzodiorite and alkali
granite respectively, so it is inferred that the fractionation relationship between the alkali granite and the monzodiorite was
repeated on a small scale between the magmas responsible for the rhyolite and andesite dikes, and is especially well
expressed in the composite ones. These dikes, which were probably feeder dikes for volcanic rocks that were later eroded,
have been dated in the nearby Sinai area as 590 Ma (Stern and Manton 1987).The major diabase (dolerite) dike intruded
the alkali granite, which at the time had previously been fractured and intruded by rhyolite, andesite and andesite-rhyolite
composite dikes (fig. 6), so it is the youngest igneous event in the Timna complex (Beyth and Heimann 1999). This has
been confirmed by whole-rock K-Ar and Ar-Ar determinations. The mean K-Ar age obtained, based on two samples, was
546.3±10.1 Ma (Beyth and Heimann 1999). The total Ar-Ar age of one sample was 527.2 Ma, whereas its Ar-Ar plateau age
was 531.7±4.6 Ma. Based on the argument that the plateau age is the best estimate of a sample’s age, it was concluded
that this diabase dike was intruded at 531.7±4.6 Ma (532 Ma). Geochemically similar diabase dikes are also found at Mt.
Amram, where alkali granite, monzonite and quartz monzonite are also exposed 13 km south of Mt. Timna (Beyth et al
1994b; Kessel, Stein and Navon 1998), elsewhere in the Sinai (Friz-Topfer 1991) and in nearby Jordan (Jarrar, Wachendorf
and Saffarini 1992). The dikes in Jordan, though, yielded a K-Ar age of 545±13 Ma, similar to the K-Ar age of 546.3±10.1 Ma
obtained for the Timna diabase dike. Nevertheless, the ages for these dikes are close to 542 Ma, the defined date of the
Cambrian/Precambrian boundary (Gradstein, Ogg, and Smith 2004), although Jarrar, Wachendorf, and Zachmann (1993)
compiled an age of 530±10 Ma for the Cambrian/Precambrian peneplain boundary in this Sinai-Jordan region. That the
diabase dike at Timna was intruded before this peneplanation occurred is confirmed by the lack of any contact
metamorphism in the overlying lower Cambrian sandstone of the Amudei Shelomo Formation (Beyth and Heimann 1999).All
the intrusive rocks of the Timna Igneous Complex have subsequently been subtly altered. A chemical remnant magnetic
direction similar to the sub-recent field (Miocene to present) was identified in the olivine norite, monzodiorite, quartz
monzodiorite and dikes of various compositions (Marco et al. 1993). The magnetic mineral assemblage of magnetite and Ti-
magnetite in these rocks was thus found to have been altered by oxidation and hydration to secondary hematite and
goethite. Subsequent investigations (Beyth et al. 1997; Matthews et al. 1999) showed that these alteration processes had
also resulted in significant modification of both the mineralogy and the oxygen and hydrogen isotope compositions of these
Precambrian igneous rocks, consistent with hydrothermal alteration under warm conditions (<200°C) at low to medium
water/rock ratios, followed by weathering or supergene alteration by local meteoric waters. This hydrothermal activity
occurred before uplift and erosion exposed these basement rocks during the early stages of tectonic activity along the Dead
Sea rift in the middle Miocene, presumably at the very end of the Flood event. The most likely fluid source would have been
the basinal brines in the overlying Flood-deposited sedimentary rocks, the movement of which into the Precambrian
basement rocks below was triggered by onset of the Dead Sea rifting. This also resulted in uplift, so the retreating Flood
waters would then have eroded away some of these sedimentary rocks, exposing the Precambrian igneous rocks to
weathering to produce the present outcrops.
General latest Precambrian igneous activity
Within the Elat and Roded terrains are found isolated remnants of latest Precambrian igneous activity that likely coincides
with the progressive emplacement of the Timna Igneous Complex, especially the hypabyssal dikes. Kessel, Stein, and
Navon (1998) delineated three distinct swarms of dikes that cut across both the Elat massif (which includes both the Elat
and Roded terrains) and the Amram massif (which is situated between the Elat massif and the Timna Igneous Complex to
the north). The oldest dike suite consists of andesitic to rhyolitic dikes that strike N-S and geochemically are calc-alkaline.
The second group strikes NE-SW and contains tholeiitic basaltic to rhyolitic dikes that cross-cut the older calc-alkaline dikes.
Both these suites of dikes are commonly 0.5–5.0 m wide, and have not been dated. However, dikes of similar chemistry and
stratigraphic emplacement from nearby massifs show a range of ages between 600 and 540 Ma (Beyth et al. 1994a ; Bielski
1982), the calc-alkaline dikes likely corresponding to the last phase of the emplacement of the Elat Granite. Finally, the
youngest group of dikes, not represented in the Elat massif, consists of two NW-SE striking alkali basaltic dikes
approximately 60 m wide in the Amram massif. These diabase (dolerite) dikes are similar in orientation, appearance and
chemical composition to the diabase (dolerite) dike in the Timna massif which also cuts across dikes of two older swarms
similar to the calc-alkaline and tholeiitic dikes in the Elat and Amram massifs (Beyth et al. 1994a, b). Beyth and Heimann
(1999) concluded that Timna diabase dike was intruded at 532 Ma.Gutkin and Eyal (1998) also recognized the same older
two suites of dikes in the Mt. Shelomo area, 5 km northwest of Elat, as described by Kessel et al. (1998). The first (oldest)
group forms a swarm of hundreds of dikes, a few meters thick, which in many cases cross one another, but are usually only
tens of meters long. These dikes similarly range from andesite or andesitic basalt to dacitic and rhyolite-dacitic. The second
(younger) swarm cross-cuts all the metamorphic and plutonic country rocks as well as the earlier dikes, and consists of a
few large rhyolitic dikes, one of which is 10–30 m thick and more than 3 km long.Garfunkel (1980) noted a volcanic neck in
the southern part of the Ramat Yotam area about 2 km west of Elat, containing tuffs and surrounded by a hydrothermally-
altered breccia of Taba Gneiss. Subsequently, Eyal and Peltz (1994) mapped the structure of what they recognized as a
deeply eroded ash-flow caldera, now called the Ramat Yotam Caldera. Although faulted after eruption, when restored to its
original position this elliptically-shaped caldera would have had a diameter of about 2 × 3 km. Composed mainly of silicic
ignimbrites, the thickness of the exposed composite section is about 250 m.
These silicic ignimbrites of the Ramat Yotam Caldera are the southernmost representatives of the silicic Elat volcanic field
(Eyal and Peltz 1994), remnants of which are exposed further north in the Shehoret Canyon area and at Mt Amram, as well
as to the northwest at Mt. Neshef. These outliers of the Elat volcanic field cover some 13 km2. Garfunkel (1980) claimed that
the Ramat Yotam Caldera could have been the source of these dacitic or rhyodacitic ignimbrites found further north, so
Bielski (1982) dated many of these tuffs and obtained a whole-rock Rb-Sr isochron age of 548±4 Ma. Segev (1987) though
regrouped these and other similar volcanic rocks according to their individual sites and recalculated their Rb-Sr isochron
ages, obtaining ages of 529±12 Ma (Mt. Neshef), 548±4 Ma (Shelomo area), and 532±7 Ma (for Mt. Neshef and three other
nearby sites in northeastern Sinai and southwestern Jordan combined). Clearly, given the spatial and temporal proximity of
these explosively-erupted silicic volcanic rocks to the Precambrian-Cambrian boundary and therefore the beginning of the
Flood event (see below), and the unreliability of the radioisotope dating methods (Snelling 2000; Vardiman, Snelling, and
Chaffin 2005), it is quite likely that the explosive eruption of these rhyolitic volcanics and ignimbrites, and the intrusion of the
associated dikes, were related to the initiating stage of the “breaking up” of the “fountains of the great deep.”
The Arabian-Nubian Shield
These Precambrian basement granites and metamorphics in southern Israel (and in neighboring Jordan) are recognized as
the northernmost exposed extent of the Arabian-Nubian Shield. This Precambrian shield area outcrops along the coastlines
of the Gulf of Elat (or Aqaba) and across into the Sinai Peninsula (Kröner, Eyal, and Eyal 1990), and extends along either
side of the Red Sea. On the African coastline is the Nubian Shield of Egypt and Sudan that also extends through Eritrea into
northern Ethiopia, while along the opposite Red Sea coastline is the Arabian Shield of Saudi Arabia that extends into Yemen
(Be’eri-Shlevin et al. 2009; Stacey and Hedge 1984; Sultan et al. 1990). That these two shield areas were once joined
together as the Arabian-Nubian Shield has been established by reconstructing the pre-Red Sea opening configuration, the
two areas matching along the Red Sea rift line.The geochronologic and isotopic evidence available confirms that the
Arabian-Nubian Shield was originally part of the Precambrian supercontinent Rodinia. The oldest rock so far established is a
granodiorite in Saudi Arabia that has yielded a Paleoproterozoic zircon U-Pb concordia age of 1,628±200 Ma (Stacey and
Hedge 1984), which was concluded to probably be its emplacement age. Furthermore, the Pb isotopes show that these
1,630 Ma crustal rocks could have inherited material from an older, probably Archean, source at the time of their formation.
This is consistent with contemporaneous addition of mantle material that considerably modified the Rb-Sr and Sm-Nd
systems so that they now yield similar, or only slightly older, 1,600–1,800 Ma apparent ages.In the northernmost Arabian-
Nubian Shield in the Sinai Peninsula, detritral zircons within a schist, coupled with whole-rock Nd isotopic analyses, have
provided evidence of pre-Neoproterozoic crust (Be’eri-Shlevin et al. 2009). The detrital zircon age population was bimodal,
with concordia ages in the 1,000–1,100 Ma range. The whole-rock Nd isotopic value was significantly lower than for juvenile
Neoproterozoic rocks in the region, which was interpreted as implying that 1 Ga age crust was incorporated into the
northernmost Arabian-Nubian Shield. The δ18O (zircon) values were also consistent with supracrustal recycling being
involved in the formation of this 1,000–1,100 Ma crust.The Arabian-Nubian Shield, consisting of a diverse variety of
metamorphosed sedimentary and volcanic rocks intruded by granitic and other plutonic rocks, thus has an apparent long
history somewhat similar to the Precambrian crystalline basement rocks exposed in the inner gorges of the Grand Canyon in
northern Arizona (Beus and Morales 2003). The initially created and formed earth, likely with an initial crust divided from the
mantle and core, and then subsequently further formed and structured the crust to produce the dry land, likely as a
supercontinent, perhaps that identified as Rodinia by the conventional geologic community. The Arabian-Nubian Shield
would have been a part of the pre-Flood supercontinent, thus designating these Precambrian crystalline basement rocks
exposed in southern Israel as likely Creation Week rocks, similar to their equivalents in the Grand Canyon (Austin 1994).
If some credence is given to the radioisotope age determinations of these Precambrian metamorphic and granitic rocks of
the Elat area in southern Israel (fig. 4 and table 1) as already detailed, then, due to the systematic pattern of radioisotope
ages that would result from an episode of accelerated nuclear decay during the Creation Week (Snelling 2005b; Vardiman,
Snelling, and Chaffin 2005), there are significant differences between these rocks and their equivalents in the Grand
Canyon. There is no doubt that they form the crystalline basement foundations to the stratigraphic succession of
sedimentary rock units in Israel (fig. 3). However, they yield radioisotope ages of 800–813 Ma for the Elat Schist to 600–
625 Ma for the Elat Granite and Timna Igneous Complex, placing them according to Snelling (2009) in the pre-Flood era
between Creation Week and the Flood, at the time when the Neoproterozoic Chuar Group sediments were being deposited
in the Grand Canyon area (Austin 1994). In the Grand Canyon the basement metamorphic and granitic rocks yield
Paleoproterozoic radioisotope ages of 1.73–1.75 Ga (metamorphics) and 1.84 Ga and 1.66–1.74 Ga (granites) (Beus and
Morales 2003), placing them in the early part of the Creation Week (Austin 1994; Snelling 2009), and are overlain by the
Mesoproterozoic Unkar Group sediments and lavas that were likely mid-late Creation Week rocks. Thus if these
metamorphic and granitic rocks in southern Israel are to be placed in the creation framework of earth history based only on
their radioisotope ages, then they would have to represent metamorphism and magmatism that occurred during the pre-
Flood era, while people and animals were living elsewhere on the supercontinental land surface. This seems unlikely, so
clearly using relative radioisotope ages is not always a reliable indicator of where rock units should be placed in the creation
framework of earth history, as mixing and inheritance are still processes that can perturb the radioisotope systems (Snelling
2000, 2005b). Indeed, crustal recycling of radioisotopes and mixing of mantle components in the Arabian-Nubian Shield is
well documented (Be’eri-Shlevin et al. 2009; Kröner, Eyal, and Eyal 1990; Stacey and Hedge 1984; Sultan et al. 1990), as
already indicated above.
Radiohalos
It hardly seems necessary to defend the catastrophic formation of these metamorphic and granitic rocks in southern Israel if
they were formed. However, it can be demonstrated that both regional metamorphism and granite magmatism are
catastrophic processes (Snelling 1994, 2007, 2009). One important indicator that imposes severely short time constraints on
these processes is the formation within these rocks of polonium radiohalos (Snelling 2005a, 2007, 2008b, c; Snelling and
Armitage 2003; Snelling and Gates 2009). So it is to be expected that polonium radiohalos would be present in these
Precambrian granitic rocks in southern Israel.The Roded Porphyritic Granite and the Timna Igneous Complex’s
monzodiorite and alkali granite were sampled (five samples from each area) (see figs. 4 and 6). Outcrops sampled in the
Shehoret Canyon and Timna areas respectively are shown in Fig. 7. The samples were processed and biotite flakes
mounted for microscope examination to count their contained radiohalos according to the method outlined by Snelling and
Armitage (2003). Fig. 8 provides photo-micrographs of the different sampled rock units showing their mineralogy and
textures, while Fig. 9 shows some of the radiohalos found in the biotites of these samples. All five samples of the Roded
Porphyritic Granite contained 210Po radiohalos, while three samples each contained a 238U radiohalo, with an abundance
range of 0.06–0.76 radiohalos per slide in the separated and mounted biotite flakes (table 2). In contrast, only two samples
from the Timna Igneous Complex, both monzodiorite, contained radiohalos, but both 210Po and 238U radiohalos, with a
higher abundance range of 1.30–1.50 radiohalos per slide (table 2).The ratios of 210Po:238U radiohalos are high and typical
of Precambrian (pre-Flood) granitic rocks, as are the low radiohalos abundances (Snelling 2005a). This is because these
granitic rocks have likely had all the radiohalos that formed in them initially, when the original magmas crystallized and
cooled, subsequently annealed by temperatures of 150°C and above generated by their burial below the thick overlying
sedimentary rock sequence deposited during the Flood (Snelling 2005a). Thus the radiohalos now observed in these
granitic rocks were likely formed by the passage of further hydrothermal fluids through them during the Flood, for which
there is abundant evidence in them, namely, the chloritization of biotites and sericitization of feldspars, as observed in the
thin sections (fig. 8).
Fig. 7 (below). Outcrops sampled for the radiohalos study (locations shown in Figs. 4 and 6). (a) General view of Shehoret
Canyon, looking “upstream.” (b) Sample IGR-1 collection site from the Roded Porphyritic Granite exposed in Shehoret
Canyon. (c) Sample IGR-3 collection site from the Roded Porphyritic Granite in Shehoret Canyon. (d) The Roded Porphyritic
Granite at the sample IGR-5 collection site showing the dark enclaves of mafic minerals. (e) General view of the alkali
granite of the Timna Igneous Complex, in the Timna mountains, opposite and above the sample IGR-10 collection site. (f)
The alkali granite of the Timna Igneous Complex at the sample IGR-6 collection site. (g) The monzodiorite of the Timna
Igneous Complex at the sample IGR-7 collection site. (h) the monzodiorite of the Timna Igneous Complex at the sample
IGR-10 collection site.
Fig. 8 (below). Photo-micrographs of some of the samples examined in the radiohalos study. All are at the same scale (20×
or 1 mm = 40 mm) and as viewed under crossed polars, (a) Roded Porphyritic Granite, sample IGR-1: plagioclase (with
multiple twinning), microcline, and biotite (colored flakes showing alteration). (b) Roded Porphyritic Granite, sample IGR-4;
plagioclase (partly extinguished), microcline, biotite (altered), and quartz (small grains). (c) Roded Porphyritic Granite,
sample IGR-5: plagioclase, microcline, and biotite. (d) Timna alkali granite, sample IGR-6: perthite (intergrown plagioclase
and orthoclase), biotite (altered), and orthoclase. (e) (f) Timna monzodiorite, sample IGR-7: plagioclase, orthoclase, perthite,
biotite, and magnetite (black). (g) (h) Timna monzodiorite, sample IGR-10: plagioclase, orthoclase, biotite, amphibole
(altered) and magnetite.
Fig. 9 (below). Photo-micrographs of some of the radiohalos identified and counted in the radiohalos study (see table 2). All
are at the same scale (40× or 1 mm =20µm) and as viewed in plane polarized light. (a) Roded Porphyritic Granite, sample
IGR-1, slide 32, three 210Po radiohalos and one 238U radiohalo (top). (b) Roded Porphyritic Granite, sample IGR-1, slide 32,
three 210Po radiohalos. (c) Roded Porphyritic Granite, sample IGR-2, slide 15, three 210Po radiohalos and one partial 238U
radiohalo (to the left on the edge of the grain). (d) Timna Monzodiorite, sample IGR-7, slide 7, one 210Po radiohalo (upper
left), three 238U radiohalos (bottom center and right), and several elongated fluid inclusions. (e) Timna Monzodiorite, sample
IGR-7, slide 13, four 210Po radiohalos plus fluid inclusions. (f) Timna Monzodiorite, sample IGR-7, slide 13, one 210Po
radiohalo (lower left), one 238U radiohalo (upper right) and fluid inclusions. (g) Timna Monzodiorite, sample IGR-10, slide 30,
three 210Po radiohalos, with one of them around a fluid inclusion. (h) Timna Monzodiorite, sample IGR-10, slide 24,
two 210Po radiohalos, with one around a fluid inclusion.
Even though all the rock units sampled
(table 2) show the effects of alteration
subsequent to their original crystallization,
there are obvious differences in their
radiohalo abundances. The Timna alkali
granite contains no radiohalos, the Roded
Porphyritic Granite a few radiohalos, and
the Timna monzodiorite many more
radiohalos. Assuming that all these
granitic rock units after crystallization were
subject to temperatures above 150°C, due
to subsequent deeper burial by thick overlying Flood-deposited sedimentary sequences, so that all the radiohalos produced
in them when they originally crystallized were annealed, then these relative differences in radiohalo abundances in these
rock units could be due to them subsequently experiencing different quantities of hydrothermal fluids during the Flood event.
That greater abundances of radiohalos are produced by greater quantities of hydrothermal fluids has been well established
and verified, both in granitic rocks (Snelling 2005a, 2008c; Snelling and Gates 2009) and in metamorphic rocks (Snelling
2008a, b).
Table 2. Radiohalos in the Precambrian Elat Granite, and alkali granite and monzondiorite from the Timna Igneous
Complex.
Radiohalos Number Number
Sampl
Numbe 210 of of Po
e Ratio210Po:23
Location Rock Unit r of - 214P 218P 238 232T Radiohal Radiohal 8U
Numbe
Slides P o o U h os per os per
r
o Slide Slide
IGR-
1 50 37 — — — — 0.74 0.74 —
IGR-
2 50 4 — — — — 0.08 0.08 —
IGR-
3 50 3 — — — — 0.06 0.06 —
IGR-
4 50 11 — — — — 0.22 0.22 —
Timna
alkali IGR-
granite 6 50 — — — — — — — —
Timna
monzodiori IGR-
te 7 50 62 — — 1 — 1.26 1.24 62:1
Timna
alkali IGR-
granite 8 50 — — — — — — — —
IGR-
9 50 — — — — — — — —
Timna Park, Timna
and Timna monzodiori IGR-
Mountains te 10 50 72 — — 3 — 1.50 1.44 24:1
It can easily be demonstrated that these granitic rock units in southern Israel were buried under thick sedimentary
sequences during the Flood. In the areas where these samples were obtained, the unconformity between these granitic rock
units and the overlying Flood-deposited sedimentary sequence is exposed (fig. 10). Thus at some stage during the Flood, as
or after the overlying sedimentary sequence was deposited, the basinal brines in these deeply buried basal (Cambrian)
sediments just above the unconformity would likely have been heated sufficiently to become hydrothermal fluids. This has
been confirmed by evidence that temperatures in the overlying Cambrian sandstone reached as high as 200°C (Vermeesch,
Avigad, and McWilliams 2009). These hydrothermal fluids would then have circulated down into the underlying Precambrian
crystalline basement rocks. That this has certainly occurred in the Timna Igneous Complex rocks has been confirmed by
paleomagnetic and isotopic evidence (Beyth et al. 1997; Marco et al. 1993; Matthews et al. 1999). And since it occurred at
the end of the Flood during the early triggering stages of tectonic activity along the Dead Sea rift, which is adjacent to both
sampled areas, then most of the Precambrian granitic and metamorphic rocks would have been affected similarly. However,
Beyth et al. (1997) showed that the monzodiorite was more altered than the alkali granite by these circulating hydrothermal
fluids. Thus it seems reasonable to conclude that the degree of alteration corresponds to the volume of hydrothermal fluids
which circulated through these rocks. This in turn would be consistent with the earlier proposal that the greatest abundance
of radiohalos in the monzodiorite is due to a greater volume of hydrothermal fluids circulating through it during the Flood. If
this conclusion is correct, then it would imply that the Roded Porphyritic Granite in the Shehoret Canyon area, with its
consistent low radiohalos abundance, had slightly more hydrothermal fluid-flow through it than the Timna alkali granite with
its complete lack of radiohalos.
Fig. 12. Schematic stratigraphic cross-section of southern Israel, indicating the major unconformities and the relationships of
the terminal Precambrian sediments and the overlying Flood sediments to the Precambrian crystalline basement of the
Arabian-Nubian Shield (ANS) (after Veermeesch, Avigad, and McWilliams 2009). The inset map shows the location of this
cross-section.Distinct from the Elat Conglomerate, but also unconformably overlying all the eroded crystalline basement
rocks including the dikes, is a 200–400 m thick volcano-conglomeratic series that is also preserved in small grabens
(Garfunkel 1999) (figs. 4 and 5). This series begins with a basal conglomerate layer similar to that of the Elat Conglomerate,
and in the Shelomo area most of its pebbles consist of local quartz-diorite gneiss and migmatite (of the Roded Association)
(Gutkin and Eyal 1998). The rest of the series in that area, about 320 m thick, is mainly composed of andesitic-basaltic lavas
and pyroclastic flows alternating with several conglomerate layers, and is intruded by hypabyssal andesitic bodies and
quartz-porphyry dikes. A few arkose layers are also in this series. Contained boulders are usually big (0.2–1.0 m) and
rounded, but comprise only a small percent (2–3%) of the rock’s volume.These exposures of the Elat Conglomerate and the
volcano-conglomeratic series probably represent the margins of a large basin known from the subsurface via drilling
(Garfunkel 1978), in which the terminal Neoproterozoic Zenifim Formation, more than 2.8 km thick in the Ramon-1 well,
accumulated (Garfunkel 1999; Weissbrod 1969) (fig. 11). This formation consists of arkoses, similar to the matrix of the
exposed conglomerates, some conglomerates, and small amounts of finer clastics, as well as andesitic volcanics and
diabase intrusives, one of which (in the Hameishar-1 well) yielded a K-Ar age of 609±9 Ma (Garfunkel 1999). The available
subsurface data from drilling suggests that this terminal Precambrian Zenifim basin which formed north of the Elat area was
150–200 km wide and received the outwash from an uplifted area exposing mainly granitoids and/or gneisses, though some
igneous activity also contributed to the basin fill. The source area was probably situated to the south where the northernmost
Arabian-Nubian Shield is now exposed in the Elat area and the nearby Sinai, because the grain size of the basin sediments
generally tends to decrease northwards.Applying the five discontinuity criteria of Austin and Wise (1994) to determine the
pre-Flood/Flood boundary in southern Israel, there are only two possibilities: the unconformity at the base of the fossiliferous
Cambrian strata sequence, or the unconformity between the crystalline basement and the terminal Neoproterozoic coarse
clastics with interbedded volcanics (figs. 11 and 12). In any case, these two unconformities merge at the exposed erosion
surface on the crystalline basement, which certainly represents a mechanical-erosional discontinuity. There is only a very
short time or age discontinuity at both unconformities, and both unconformities represent tectonic discontinuities. So far
there is no data on whether the Zenifim Formation contains any fossils, but due to it consisting of coarse immature clastics,
the depositional conditions would not have been conducive for fossilization.Very little data pertaining to the Zenifim
Formation is available apart from that obtained in boreholes, so a definitive determination is problematical. However, given
some clear similarities between the coarse, poorly sorted, polymictic conglomerates and immature lithic arkoses of the
Zenifim Formation (and the Elat Conglomerate and volcano-conglomeratic series) and both the Sixtymile Formation in
Grand Canyon and the Kingston Peak Formation in the Mohave Desert, it is considered that on balance the Zenifim
Formation (and the related conglomerates) likely represent the initial Flood deposits in southern Israel. With the breaking up
of the “fountains of the great deep” triggering the onset of the Flood, massive erosion of the crystalline basement would
have occurred, with submarine debris avalanches rapidly accumulating these sediments catastrophically on the flanks of the
rifting edges of the pre-Flood supercontinent (Austin et al. 1994; Austin and Wise 1994; Sigler and Wingerden 1998;
Wingerden 2003). The presence of interbedded volcanics and contemporaneous explosive volcanism would be testimony to
the volcanic activity likely accompanying this breaking up process. Thus the pre-Flood/Flood boundary in southern Israel
would be the unconformity between the terminal Proterozoic Zenifim Formation and the erosion surface across the
crystalline basement. However, in some places the fossiliferous Cambrian strata sequence sits unconformably directly on
that erosion surface across the Precambrian crystalline basement.Unlike the Grand Canyon-Colorado Plateau area where
there is a very large radioisotope time gap between the last igneous activity (the Cardenas Basalt and related diabase sills
conventionally regarded as ~1.1 Ga) and the onset of the Flood event near the terminal Precambrian-Cambrian
unconformity (Austin 1994; Austin and Wise 1994; Beus and Morales 2003), in the northernmost Arabian-Nubian Shield
area of southern Israel, repeated, almost continuous igneous activity seems to have spanned the last 100 million years or so
of the Precambrian right up to, and on into, the onset of the Flood event. The physical manifestation at the earth’s surface
that the Flood was beginning was the catastrophic “breaking up” of “the fountains of the great deep”, but the creation
account doesn’t indicate what precursors may have been occurring inside the earth, even for years before, which triggered
that “breaking up.” From a geophysical perspective, igneous activity had to have built up molten rock and accompanying
steam inside the earth under confining pressure until the magma and steam were cataclysmically released by the renting
apart of the earth’s surface. Thus the rocks resulting from this igneous activity throughout the terminal Precambrian in
southern Israel may be the record of this precursor build-up inside the earth that eventually triggered the Flood event.
Indeed, the latest igneous activity from about 610 Ma onwards has been described as occurring in a crustal extension or
rifting tectonic regime, with the intrusion of the Timna alkali granite and monzodiorite followed by the multiple generations of
dike swarms, and the initiation of catastrophic erosion and depositional of the Zenifim Formation (Beyth et al. 1994a;
Garfunkel 1999).As for the radioisotope timescale involved, Vardiman et al. (2005) reported five independent evidences that
demonstrate a lot of nuclear decay occurred during the Flood event at grossly accelerated rates. A significant biproduct of
this accelerated radioisotope decay would have been a huge amount of heat, which would have rapidly increased as the
radioisotope decay exponentially accelerated. If this acceleration of radioisotope decay was initiated months before the
Flood event began on the earth’s surface, then the heat which rapidly accumulated as a result would have begun melting
upper mantle and lower crustal rocks. The intrusive igneous rocks produced within those few months would have “aged”
radioisotopically by tens of millions of years due to the accelerating nuclear decay, while the pressure confining the molten
rock and steam would have built up until they could not be held “in” any longer, so “the fountains of the great deep” were
broken up. Such an initiation process would thus explain the close spatial and temporal relationship between the terminal
Precambrian igneous activity in the pre-Flood crystalline basement of southern Israel and the tectonic upheaval and
catastrophic erosion and deposition which marked the beginning of the cataclysmic Flood event.
The Geology of Israel within the Creation-Flood Framework of History: 2. The Flood Rocks
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling on December 15, 2010
Abstract
The sedimentary strata that cover most of Israel are an obvious record of the Flood. A major erosion surface (unconformity)
at the base of the sedimentary sequence cut across the Precambrian (pre-Flood) crystalline basement rocks. This resulted
from the catastrophic passage of the Flood waters as they rose in enormous tsunami-like surges over the continental land at
the initiation of the Flood event. These rising Flood waters transported sediments and marine organisms over the continental
land. Many thousands of meters of marine sediments were thus deposited on a vast scale across Israel, rapidly burying
myriads of marine organisms in fossil graveyards. Land organisms were similarly overwhelmed by the Flood waters, their
remains buried with the marine organisms. The global extent of some of these sedimentary layers in Israel is confirmed by
correlations of strata across and between continents, such as the sandstone with pebbles at the base of the Flood
sequence, and the massive pure chalk beds at the top. The creation account of the Flood describes the formation of
mountains from halfway through to the end of the year-long Flood event. Thus late in the Flood powerful tectonic upheaval
processes overturned and upthrust Flood-deposited sedimentary strata to form these mountains. Simultaneous isostatic
adjustments also resulted in restoring continental land surfaces as the Flood waters receded and drained into new deep
ocean basins. In Israel this great regression is marked by the end of the widespread “marine” sedimentation and an erosion
surface across the country. The subsequent minor local continental sedimentation represents residual post-Flood geologic
activity. The end of the Flood also coincided with the commencement of the rifting that opened the Red Sea and the Dead
Sea-Jordan River rift valley, as well as the uplifting of the Judean Mountains and the upthrusting of Mt. Hermon.
Shop Now
Keywords: Israel, geology, Flood, sedimentary strata, fossils, erosional unconformities, e-Flood/Flood boundary,
Flood/post-Flood boundary
Introduction
Fig. 1 (pp. 268–271). Detailed geologic map of Israel, in two adjoining sheets, from the mountains of Lebanon in the north
(northern sheet) to the Negev and Red Sea in the south (southern sheet) (after Sneh et al. 1998). The only Precambrian
(pre-Flood) rocks are found in the far south of the country near Elat. Otherwise most of Israel is covered by Flood rocks.
Details of most of the rock units on the map are listed in the legend.Furthermore, because some post-Flood events likely
affected the geology of Israel, identifying those effects may aid our alignment of the global geologic record within the
creation framework of history.The year-long global catastrophic Flood is the event which divides the global geologic record
into its three main sections—pre-Flood, Flood, and post-Flood rocks. Snelling (2010a) identified and discussed the pre-
Flood rocks of Israel, found only in the Elat area in the far south of the country. The unconformity across the top of the
Precambrian igneous and metamorphic basement rocks was suggested as marking the onset of the Flood, which also
included the rapid deposition of coarse clastic sediments (arkose and arkosic conglomerate) accompanied by volcanics
(basalt flows, some erupted under water, and explosively erupted tuffs and other pryoclastics) (Garfunkel 1980), consistent
with the breaking up of the pre-Flood crust as waters of the fountains of the great deep erupted.The initiation of this breaking
up of the pre-Flood crust triggered the catastrophic plate tectonics that provides a coherent, all embracing model for the
Flood event and its contribution to the global geologic record (Austin et al. 1994; Baumgardner 2003). A fuller treatment of
the application of that model to the geologic record within the creation-Flood framework of earth history is provided by
Snelling (2009b). That treatment also includes presentation and discussion of the details of the Flood event and the
evidences of catastrophic deposition of the Flood sediments, all of which is relevant to the descriptive overview here of the
Flood rocks of Israel.
Flood Rock Units
Much of Israel consists of exposed Flood-deposited fossiliferous sedimentary strata, from the far north of the country down
through the central “spine” of the Judean Hills to the Negev in the south (Freund 1978; Garfunkel 1978). Fig. 1 (in two parts)
is a detailed geologic map of the whole country (Sneh et al. 1998). Figs. 2 and 3 are two depictions of the stratigraphic
succession of the rock units across Israel (Bartov and Arkin 1980; Freund 1977; Ilani, Flexer and Kronfeld 1987). Fig. 2
provides more details of the rock types, while Fig. 3 is more stylistic and includes subsurface information obtained in
boreholes.In southern Israel the flat-lying sedimentary strata (sandstone, limestone and shale) stacked above the
unconformity representing the beginning of the Flood are about 1.6 km (1 mi.) thick, similar to the strata sequence exposed
in the Grand Canyon (Austin 1994; Beus and Morales 2003). It was originally expected that this approximately 1.6 km (1 mi.)
thick Cambrian through Jurassic sedimentary sequence in southern Israel would be persistent in thickness into central and
northern Israel, being concealed there beneath the widespread cover of Cretaceous limestone and chalk. However, at
Makhtesh Ramon in the central Negev, where over 915 m (3,000 ft) of Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous sedimentary strata
are exposed, drilling penetrated another 2,000 m (6,560 ft) of sedimentary strata before reaching the unconformity with the
pre-Flood crystalline basement (Austin 1998a). Furthermore, at Ramallah (only 24 km or 15 mi. north of Jerusalem) drilling
and seismic refraction profiling indicate that there is about 7,000 m (22,960 ft) of sedimentary strata down to the same
unconformity. Similarly, drilling on the coast near Gaza penetrated some 6,000 m (19,680 ft.) of sedimentary strata before
reaching the basement granite. Therefore, there is more than a three-fold thickening of Flood-deposited sedimentary strata
in the subsurface beneath central and northern Israel and northwestward into the Mediterranean Sea basin. And given that
these sedimentary layers contain abundant marine fossils, the ocean waters clearly rose and prevailed during the Flood,
covering the region.
Fig. 2. A generalized stratigraphic chart showing the succession of rock units (their names and geologic ages) across Israel
from south (right) to north (left) (after Barton and Arkin 1980; Ilani, Flexer and Kronfeld 1987).
Fig. 3. The generalized stratigraphic sequence across Israel, extending from the Mediterranean coast in the northwest to
Arabia in the southeast (after Freund 1977). The relationships between the major rock units of Israel’s geology are depicted,
with heavy lines representing the regional unconformities separating six major straigraphic “packages” of strata. The
conventional ages of the tops and bottoms of these “megasequences” are designated. Dotted areas indicate clastic rocks;
bricks indicate shales and non-clastic (mainly calcareous) rocks; vs indicate volcanics.
Zenifim Formation(uppermost Neoproterozoic, terminal Precambrian)
As argued by Snelling (2010a), the first of the Flood rock units was likely the sediments and volcanics of the Zenifim
Formation (fig. 3). In the Elat area polymictic conglomerates and volcanics outcrop in several small grabens (Bentor 1961;
Garfunkel 1980). They lie on the eroded surface of the metamorphic and granitic basement rocks. The conglomerates
contain clasts of all those older crystalline rocks, including the dikes. The matrix of the conglomerates is rich in lithic
fragments and mafic minerals. Both clasts and matrix of these conglomerates are derived locally, indicating catastrophic
erosion and nearby burial before fragile and weathering-prone minerals could disintegrate. These coarse conglomerates are
interbedded with basalt and spilite flows (the latter indicating eruption under water), intermediate-acid volcanics, tuffs and
pyroclastics (indicative of violent eruptions).Grouped together informally as the Elat conglomerate, these conglomerates with
interbedded volcanics have been correlated with the very similar Saramuj Conglomerate in Jordan, southwest of the Dead
Sea and in Israel west of the Avara Valley, and with the Zenifim Formation, known only from boreholes in the Negev.
Indeed, the outcropping Elat and Saramuj conglomerates are regarded as representing the margins of a large subsurface
basin in which the Zenifim Formation, more than 2,800 m (9,180 ft) thick in the Ramon-1 well, accumulated (Garfunkel 1978;
Wiessbrod 1969). This formation consists of arkose, similar to the matrix in the exposed conglomerates, and small amounts
of finer clastics as well as volcanics.While it has been argued (Snelling 2010a) that these conglomerates and the Zenifim
Formation arkose and volcanics bear some resemblance positionally to the terminal Neoproterozoic Sixtymile Formation in
the Grand Canyon and the Kingston Peak Formation and overlying units in the Mojave Desert (California) (Austin and Wise
1994) as the initial Flood deposits, a closer correlative may be the Mount Currie Conglomerate and Uluru Arkose of central
Australia (Snelling 1998; Sweet and Crick 1992; Wells et al. 1970). The Mount Currie Conglomerate is also a coarse
polymitic conglomerate with an arkose matrix identical to this unit’s lateral equivalent, the Uluru Arkose, which together are
up to 6,000 m (19,680 ft) thick. These were once interpreted as glacial deposits (Holmes 1965). Similarly, Garfunkel (1980)
describes the Elat conglomerate as sometimes “not unlike glacial deposits”. Instead, all these named and other rock units
are excellent examples of the results of catastrophic submarine debris avalanches when the edges of the pre-Flood
supercontinent collapsed as the break-up of the fountains of the great deep triggered the initiation of catastrophic plate
tectonics (Austin et al. 1994; Austin and Wise 1994; Sigler and Wingerden 1998; Wingerden 2003). Furthermore, both the
Zenifim Formation arkose and conglomerates in Israel, and the Mount Currie Conglomerate and Uluru Arkose in central
Australia (Snelling 1998), are added testimony to the catastrophic erosion and deposition at the onset of the Flood
cataclysm responsible for the rapid local accumulation of such enormous thicknesses of the immature sediments that were
immediately buried by ongoing Flood sedimentation. The underwater and explosively erupted volcanics interbedded with the
Zenifim Formation arkose and conglomerates are also consistent with the breaking up of the pre-Flood crust explosively
releasing lavas as well as steam when the Flood began.
Yam-Suf Group (Cambrian–Devonian)
The exposed upper surface on the Precambrian metamorphic and granitic basement in southern Israel is a regular
peneplain that extends over hundreds of square kilometers (Garfunkel 1978). In the Elat region the uppermost few meters of
these basement rocks appear to have been deeply weathered before being covered by sediments. However, this
weathering profile may have originally been up to hundreds of meters deep in the pre-Flood world, so that what remains is
just a remnant after the severe deep erosion across this crystalline basement at the onset of the Flood. While the peneplain
is usually a featureless plain, there is some local relief, sometimes quite rugged, amounting to 100–150 m (328 ft–492 ft) in
the Elat area (Karcz and Key 1966).
Fig. 8. Cross-bedding sets in the arkosic sandstone of the Amudei Shelomo Formation, which indicate rapid water transport
of the sand (a) Solomon’s Pillars, Timna. (b) Above Shehoret Canyon.
Fig. 13. Correlation chart of the Cambrian–Silurian stratigraphic units of Israel and surrounding countries (after Garfunkel
2002).
This again is only consistent with the scale of geologic processes during the Flood cataclysm. After the initial surges of the
rising ocean waters across the continental plates, the water levels over the sediments on the continents would have
dramatically fluctuated, due to the ebbs and surges caused by repeated tsunamis, and the tides which now resonated on a
global ocean (Clark and Voss 1990; Snelling 2009b). Combined with rapid movements of the sediment-laden surfaces as
the continental plates now moved at meters per second (Austin et al. 1994), any rapid continental-scale regression of the
Flood waters would have catastrophically eroded into the previously deposited sediment layers on a massive scale, both in
area and depth. Then with the next transgression as the Flood waters again surged across the continents, further erosion
into the previously-deposited sediment layers would have occurred, followed close behind by the next cycle of rapid
sedimentation. As this next “packet” of sediments was deposited, it would be inevitable that the layers deposited could
involve lateral “facies” changes across the continents within the same megasequence, due to the mixture of sediment types
in the surges, the water flow speeds, and how long the supply of the different sediment types lasted as they were water
transported across the continents. Conventionally, these lateral “facies” have resulted in the different “facies” layers being
given different formation names, when in fact such formations are lateral equivalents deposited at the same time from the
same surges of Flood waters.In southern Israel the Yam-Suf Group is overlain unconformably by quartzose sandstones of
unknown age, though they are likely to still be Paleozoic (Weissbrod 1969). This is because the next cycle of sedimentation
is known to have begun with upper Carboniferous sediments, based on sedimentary strata of upper Carboniferous and
Permian conventional ages found in the subsurface of southern Israel, but also exposed around the northern part of the Gulf
of Suez, in west central Sinai, and east of the Dead Sea (Garfunkel 1978; Wiessbrod 1969). In the subsurface of the Negev
three formations have been defined:
The Sa’ad Formation is essentially sandy, is upper Carboniferous, and lies unconformably on the terminal Precambrian
(very earliest Flood) Zenifim Formation, or on volcanics.The Arqov Formation is upper Carboniferous-Permian and consists
of alternating shales and carbonates, with few sandstones under the northern Negev, but becoming essentially sandy under
the central Negev.The Yamin Formation is Permian, and consists mainly of carbonates, but sandstone is abundant in the
south.The total thickness of these sedimentary layers is 400–500 m (1,312–1,640 ft) (Garfunkel 1978; Weissbrod 1969).
Together they have been grouped into the Negev Group (fig. 3). In the south they are truncated by the lower Carboniferous
unconformity. Too little is known about these upper Carboniferous-Permian sedimentary layers in Israel and adjacent
countries, but as their conventionally interpreted marine character becomes more pronounced to the north and northwest, it
is presumed that the Permian transgression came from that direction. The Permian-Triassic boundary is not exposed, but
probably occurs on top of the Yamin Formation. It is thus not clear whether there is a hiatus at that level. However, overlying
the Yamin Formation, and exposed in Makhtesh Ramon in the central Negev, is the lower Triassic Zafir Formation, which
consists mainly of shales with variable quantities of limestone. It has been also included in the Negev Group (Wiessbrod
1969). Its inclusion increases the total thickness of the sedimentary layers in this group to up to 600 m (1,968 ft) (Freund
1977).
Ramon Group (Triassic)
Triassic sedimentary rock units are well
exposed in the central Negev, primarily
in Makhtesh Ramon, a huge elongated
crater-like erosional structure that has
been called the “Grand Canyon” of
Israel (Austin 1998a), where over 1,000
m (3,280 ft) of socalled Mesozoic strata
are exposed (fig. 14). There are five
Triassic named formations, the
lowermost Zafir Formation (mainly
shales and sandstones with variable
quantities of limestone) being assigned
to the Negev Group. The remaining
four Triassic formations constitute the
Ramon Group (Garfunkel 1978) (fig.
14):
The Ra’af Formation consists mainly of
limestones, with some dolomite, and
siltstone and shale layers, with a rich
marine fossil fauna. The rocks are
mostly micrites and biomicrites.The
Gevanim Formation is relatively rich in
clastics—sandstones and siltstones in
lower parts, and shales and siltstones
in upper parts, which also contain
fossiliferous limestones. The amount of
shales and carbonates increases
northward, in the subsurface.The
Saharonim Formation consists mainly
of carbonates, with lesser amounts of
claystones and mudstones, and some
sulfates (especially anhydrite and
gypsum). The carbonates in the lower
part are micrites, both biomicrites and
grain-supported biomicrites. The
amount of dolomite increases up the
section, and so does the amount of
sulfates. These are associated with
fossil stromatolite beds and some flat
pebble conglomerates. Concurrently
the formation becomes less
fossiliferous.The Mohilla Formation is
characterized by a great development
of anhydrite and gypsum (in exposures
only) which are associated with
dolomites and some shales. Oolites
and beds with an impoverished fossil
fauna are also present. This formation
is characterized by abrupt facies
changes, in contrast with the underlying
formations in which facies changes are
gradual.
Fig. 14. Composite stratigraphic section of the Triassic sediment layers in southern Israel (after Parnes, Benjamini and
Hirsch 1985). The locations from where exposed outcrops and boreholes were used to construct this composite stratigraphic
section are shown in the inset location map.Where well developed, the Triassic strata range in total thickness from 500 m
(1,640 ft) to 1,100 m (3,608 ft). The Ra’af Formation is 70 m (230 ft) thick in the Ramon-1 borehole, but only 27 m (89 ft) of it
are exposed at Har ‘Arif to the south of Makhtesh Ramon (fig. 14) (Parnes, Benjamini and Hirsch 1985). In Makhtesh
Ramon the Gevanim Formation is 270 m (886 ft) thick (although only the upper 130 m (426 ft) are exposed), and the
Saharonim Formation is 153–170 m (502–558 ft) thick (Benjamini, Druckman, and Zak 1993; Parnes, Benjamini and Hirsch
1985). The known thickness and facies variations of the Triassic formations are compatible with a pattern of NE–SW belts,
and the distribution of the clastics, mainly sandstones, is compatible with a southeasterly provenance (Druckman 1974).
However, a southwesterly provenance is equally probable, as paleocurrent measurements in the sandstones of the
Gevanim Formation indicate the predominant direction of sediment transport was to the northeast (Karcz and Braun 1964;
Karcz and Zak 1965, 1968). These paleocurrent measurements were derived from cross-beds that consistently dip at 15–
25°, which is consistent with water transport of those sands (Austin 1994; Visher 1990).The nature of the Ramon Group
sediments themselves and their fossil contents (fig. 14) clearly indicate that ocean waters had flooded over the area,
although the postulated depositional environments all involved only shallow waters (Garfunkel 1978). Carbonates are
present in most of the Triassic sequence, with clastics (sandstones and shales) important in the lower part, and evaporites
(precipitites) becoming common in the upper part (fig. 14). Open marine, shallow marine (subtidal, intertidal and supratidal),
restricted (brackish to hypersaline), and continental depositional environments have all been postulated (Druckman 1974).
Within the exposed stratigraphic section in Makhtesh Ramon, from the upper half of the Gevanim Formation through the
Saharonim Formation to the Mohilla Formation, it is claimed there is evidence for some five coupled
transgressive/regressive cycles (Benjamini, Druckman and Zak 1993), but these can be interpreted as representing
oscillations in the Flood conditions.Seven successive levels of ammonites are present in the Ramon Group, through the
Ra’af, Gevanim and Saharonim Formations, which are useful for correlating these strata around the Mediterranean region
(Parnes 1965; Parnes, Benjamini and Hirsch 1985). But these are not the only marine creatures fossilized in these rock
units. The Saharonim Formation particularly has rich micro- and macrofossiliferous horizons, including the ammonites, with
conodonts, bivalves, nautiloids, brachiopods, other molluscs, cephalopods, crinoids and echinoderms (Benjamini, Druckman
and Zak 1993). Near the base of the formation is a limestone bed with a great many preserved cephalopods, with other
nautiloids, and some ammonites. Sponges and corals are notably absent. Fossilized burrows are the main trace fossils,
while foraminifers are the main microfauna. Algal structures are found in the limestone beds, and stromatolites increase in
abundance upwards in the dolomite and evaporate (precipitite) beds through the Saharonim and Mohilla Formations. Some
of these stromatolites are domal structures up to 2 m (6.6 ft) in diameter.The Mohilla Formation is more than 200 m (656 ft)
thick in Makhtesh Ramon, so this massive deposition of dolomite and gypsum/anhydrite evaporites (precipitites) warrants
explanation. Rather than the conventional interpretation of a hypersaline environment in which these dolomites and sulfates
slowly accumulated by evaporation, within the global Flood the catastrophic expulsion of hot saline hydrothermal fluids into
the cold Flood waters can explain these deposits via rapid precipitation (Hovland et al. 2006; Snelling 2009b). Such
hydrothermal fluids would have been associated with, and produced by, nearby magmatic and volcanic activity.It is thus
significant that also exposed in Makhtesh Ramon are a composite gabbro laccolith up to 90 m (295 ft) thick (Rophe, Eyal
and Eyal 1993), basaltic and trachytic dikes and sills (Baer 1993), and stocks, bosses, dikes and sills of quartz syenite
(Itmar and Baer 1993), all of which are indicative of prolonged and intense magmatic and volcanic activity in this region
coinciding with the deposition of the sedimentary strata. The gabbro laccolith has been K-Ar dated at being emplaced
between 136±4 Ma and 129±4 Ma (Lang et al. 1988), while the quartz syenite intrusions have been Rb-Sr dated at 107±12
Ma (Starinsky, Bielski and Steinitz 1980) and K-Ar dated at 130±5 Ma (Lang and Steinitz 1985). Such conventional early
Cretaceous dates are consistent with these intrusions being younger than the sedimentary strata they intrude. The gabbro
laccolith was emplaced between gypsum beds in the upper Triassic Mohilla Formation, and the quartz syenite intrusions are
variously emplaced in the middle Triassic Gevanim Formation and Jurassic strata overlying the Ramon Group, while the
basaltic and trachytic dikes and sills (also regarded as early Cretaceous) intruded into the Triassic Gevanim, Saharonim and
Mohilla Formations and the overlying lower Jurassic units.Conventionally, therefore, there could be no connection between
this magmatic and volcanic activity and the deposition of the Mohilla Formation sulfate precipitites. On the other hand,
however, within the year-long Global Flood there would have been only up to a few weeks between deposition of the
Triassic strata and the lower Cretaceous emplacement of the intrusives. Thus the magma chambers that fed these
intrusives had to already have been emplaced and active in the weeks preceding emplacement of the intrusives, so that the
hot saline hydrothermal fluids associated with this magmatic activity could have been escaping along fractures into the
Flood waters above to rapidly precipitate their dissolved salts to deposit the Mohilla Formation sulfates. Indeed, it is likely
the intrusives were subsequently emplaced along the fractures and pathways the growing magma chambers produced
during catastrophic expulsion of the saline hydrothermal fluids.That abundant saline hydrothermal fluids were associated
with these intrusives is evident from the hydrothermal alteration present especially in the quartz syenite bodies, and from the
contact metasomatic alteration and brecciation of the sedimentary rocks immediately adjacent to the intrusives (Itamar and
Baer 1993). Furthermore, polymetallic hydrothermal mineralization occurs as veins and lenses within phreato-magmatic
breccia zones at the roofs of the quartz syenite intrusions close to their contacts with the overlying sedimentary rocks. This
polymetallic hydrothermal mineralization consists of Ag, Pb, Zn, Cd, Cu, Co, Ni and Fe sulfides, arsenides and sulfo-
arsenides plus native Sn in a gangue-dominated by quartz and abundant anhydrite and gypsum, with rare K-feldspar and
fluorite. K-Ar dating of this gangue K-feldspar at 125±2 Ma indicates that this hydrothermal veining was the last stage in the
magmatic activity (Itamar and Steinitz 1988). Significantly, the calculated oxygen and sulfur isotopic compositions of the
hydrothermal fluids, based on analyses of oxygen isotopes in the gangue quartz and sulfur isotopes in the vein sulfides
(Itamar and Matthews 1988), indicate that the hydrothermal fluids and the sedimentary connate waters had the same
composition, consistent with mixing of the two. Thus there is sufficient evidence of a causal relationship within the timeframe
of the Flood between the hydrothermal fluids generated and expelled by all this magmatic activity and the deposition via
precipitation of the sulfates within the Ramon Group sediments, particularly the Mohilla Formation.
Fig. 15. Columnar stratigraphic section of the layers exposed in the Makhtesh Ramon and Nahal Neqarot areas (after Ben-
David 1993).
Fig. 16. Generalized stratigraphic section of the upper Jurassic Arad Group and lower Cretaceous Kurnub Group strata
sequence exposed in the southeastern slope of Mt. Hermon, northern Israel (after Freund 1978).
Arad Group (Jurassic)
The Jurassic rocks of the Arad Group are also exposed in the erosional cirques in the Negev (fig. 15) and in neighboring
northern Sinai and Jordan, as well as being encountered in many boreholes (Garfunkel 1978). The stratigraphy in the Negev
was established by Goldberg and Friedman (1974), while the paleontology was studied by Hudson (1958). This Jurassic
sequence extends into central and northern Israel, being exposed only in a small area in Samaria (Freund 1978), but is
widely exposed on Mt. Hermon (figs. 1, 16 and 17) and in Lebanon.In all places the top of the Jurassic sequence was
eroded, this sequence being completely removed in the central Negev, before deposition of lower Cretaceous rocks. The
contact with the upper Triassic rocks in the Negev is unconformable, and marks a brief hiatus in deposition. The upper
surface of the Triassic rocks was eroded, apparently weathered and covered by a few to 30 m (98 ft) of kaolinitic clays, often
with iron oxides, and having a pisolitic structure. These comprise the Mishor Formation (fig. 15). In spite of the claim that this
formation was produced by a prolonged weathering episode, it is admitted that at least some of its material was
allochthonous (transported into position) (Garfunkel 1978). This formation occurs in a 50 km (31 mi.) wide belt, which is
truncated to the south, where it contains dolomite beds consistent with water-transported deposition.
The Jurassic Arad Group sequence of the Negev is divided into the following formations (fig. 15):
The Mishor Formation, a few to 30 m (98 ft) thick accumulation of kaolinitic clays with iron oxides and a pisolitic structure,
and some dolomite beds.The Ardon Formation consists of limestone, shale and dolomite, and in the subsurface also
contains some evaporites (precipitites).The Inmar Formation is mainly sandstones, some with cross-bedding, but in the
subsurface further north it contains some shale and carbonate beds. The formation is rich in plant remains and contains a
few thin coal beds.The Daya (Mahmal) Formation consists of alternating fossiliferous limestones, sandy limestones, and
shales and some sandstones. The carbonate sediments are claimed to have been dolomitized subsequent to deposition
then dedolomitized, but such claims expose the inability in conventional thinking to satisfactorily explain the process
responsible for forming dolomites. It is more likely that these carbonate sediments were deposited as dolomites due to the
chemistry of saline hydrothermal fluids mixing with the Flood waters, with de-dolomitization occurring subsequent to
deposition as connate waters leached and removed magnesium.The Sherif Formation resembles the Daya (Mahmal)
Formation but also contains much disseminated pyrite, and carbonized plant remains, as well as coal beds.The Zohar
Formation consists predominantly of fossiliferous limestone, marl and shale, with subordinate amounts of silt and sand.
Locally it contains marine fossil accumulations in structures claimed to be fossilized reefs, but these can be better explained
as depositional features (Snelling 2009b). Some dolomitization and de-dolomitization is also claimed to have taken place,
but again the evidence can be interpreted as primary dolomite deposition from saline hydrothermal fluids mixing in the Flood
waters, followed by post-depositional leaching and removal of magnesium.The Sherif and Zohar Formations are not
exposed in Makhtesh Ramon because of their non-deposition or erosion in that area and further south (Garfunkel 1978). To
the north and northwest the original thickness of Jurassic sediments increases considerably from about 1,000–1,300 m
(3,280–4,265 ft) in the northern Negev to about 3,000 m (9,842 ft) under the coastal plain. Most of the thickness difference
was produced during deposition of the Ardon and Inmar Formations, although in the northern Negev three additional upper
Jurassic formations were deposited on top of the Zohar Formation, the uppermost unit of the Arad Group:
The Kidod Formation consists predominantly of shales with a few carbonate layers. It is rich in pyrite and plant debris, while
marine fossils are abundant especially in the limestone beds and lower shale beds.The Beer Sheva and Halutsa Formations
consist of alternations of fossiliferous limestones, which are sometimes dolomitic, and shales, with subordinate sandstone in
the upper part of the section.
Fig. 17. Upper Jurassic Arad Group limestone at Banias on the slopes of
Mt. Hermon, northern Israel.Marine fossils are common throughout this
Jurassic sequence (Barzel and Friedman 1970; Hudson 1958). These
include pelecypods, gastropods, echinoids, crinoids, corals, sponges,
brachiopods, ammonites, stromatoporoids, calcareous algae and
ubiquitous foraminifers. They are found sporadically scattered throughout
the sequence, with some forms more common that others at different
levels. Typically they are only preserved as skeletal fragments, such as
loose tests, shells, plates, spicules and spines, embedded haphazardly in
a micrite or sparite matrix (Barzel and Friedman 1970). Many fossil
fragments are coated with algal crusts, and pellets (fecal or mud
aggregates) are sporadic. Quartz grains, making up to at least 7% by
volume of the fragments embedded in the matrix, are scattered through the rocks. These textural features and this fossil
content is fully consistent with rapid water-transported deposition of these rocks.North of the Negev in central and northern
Israel was a domain of continuous calcareous deposition, so there most of these formations (except the upper Jurassic
ones) lose their identity (Garfunkel 1978). The Arad Group in northern Israel is composed of limestone with some shale in a
2,000–3,000 m (6,560–9,842 ft) thick sequence (figs. 3 and 16). At the base of the sequence in a downfaulted block in the
Carmel area just south of Haifa deep boreholes encountered a volcanic sequence about 2,500 m (8,202 ft) thick consisting
predominantly of flows and pyroclastics (Garfunkel 1989). Called the Asher Volcanics, petrographic and geochemical
studies have shown that the fresh rocks are alkali olivine basalts (Dvorkin and Kohn 1989), with rare earth elements and Sr
and Nd isotopic signatures resembling ocean island and other intraplate basalts, but spilitized rocks are also common. K-Ar
dating has yielded ages in the range of about 190–205 Ma (uppermost Triassic–lower Jurassic) for the relatively fresh
basalts (Lang and Steinitz 1987), which is consistent with these volcanics overlying upper Triassic limestones.
Kurnub Group (lower Cretaceous)
Cretaceous rocks are exposed very extensively in Israel (figs 1 and 2) and in neighboring regions. They lie unconformably
on upper Jurassic to Cambrian rocks, and even on the Precambrian crystalline basement farther south. This unconformity
was obviously due to major erosion as a result of the Flood waters temporarily retreating off the region. This coincided with
relatively accentuated earth movements (Garfunkel 1978). This makes sense, because by this time in the Flood year such
earth movements would be the beginnings of the final phase in which today’s mountains were starting to be built as a result
of crustal isostatic adjustments. Earth movements catastrophically raising sections of the earth’s continental crust would
cause rapid retreat en masse of the Flood waters as a sheet over wide regions, resulting in massive sheet erosion. Though
large volumes of rocks were removed across Israel and beyond, the unconformity at the base of the Cretaceous strata
always appears as a smooth surface, both in outcrop and in the subsurface, which is consistent with catastrophic water
retreat and sheet erosion (not over 20–30 million years as conventionally claimed).However, the Flood waters rapidly
returned to advance again across the whole of Israel and surrounding regions, progressively depositing a thick blanket of
Cretaceous sediments (Sass and Bein 1982) (figs. 2 and 3). In most of the Negev, and especially in outcrops, the lower
Cretaceous sequence is predominantly sandstone, which has been designated as the Hatira Formation of the Kurnub Group
(Garfunkel 1978) (figs. 3 and 15). Much of this formation consists of variegated, poorly cemented, sometimes cross-bedded,
sandstone, which may contain small quartz pebbles, as well as some beds of finely laminated siltstone and marly claystone.
The remains of fossil plants are widespread, including fossilized logs exposed by erosion of the Hatira Formation sandstone
in Makhtesh Hagadol (fig. 18). In the central Negev the coarse Arod Conglomerate, consisting of quartzite pebbles, occurs
at the base of the section (fig. 15). In the nearby eastern Sinai, the Arod Conglomerate is commonly 5 m (16 ft) thick, but
ranges from 0–15 m (0–49 ft), as it also does in Makhtesh Ramon (Bartov et al. 1980). The pebbles in it are of various
quartzites, reach a size of 30 cm (1 ft) or more, and are embedded in friable sandstone, which is locally limonitic and
calcareous at the base.
Fig. 18. A fossilized log exposed by erosion from the lower Cretaceous Kurnub Group’s Hatira Formation sandstone on the
floor of Makhtesh Hagadol in the Negev, southern Israel. (a) A wide view showing the fossilized log on the floor of Makhtesh
Hagadol with the overlying strata exposed behind in the cliffs of the Makhtesh. (b) A closer view of the fossilized log.These
lower Cretaceous Hatira Formation sandstones with the basal Arod Conglomerate are somewhat similar, significantly, to the
lower Cambrian Amudei Shelomo Formation of the Yam-Suf Group at the base of the Flood sedimentary sequence, which
was deposited by the on-rush of the Flood waters surging onto and over the continents at the beginning of the Flood, similar
to, and at the same stratigraphic level as, the Tapeats Sandstone in Grand Canyon (Beus and Morales 2003) and its
equivalents across North America (Sloss 1963). However, the Hatira Formation and its basal Arod Conglomerate are the
products of what appears to be the last major surge of the Flood waters over the continents prior to the Flood waters finally
retreating into today’s new ocean basins. And the presence of one–four interfingering “marine” beds within the Hatira
Formation is certainly confirmation of that. The uppermost of these has the greatest extent, reaching the Makhtesh Ramon
area 100 km (62 mi.) from the present coast (Garfunkel 1978). These “marine” strata (designated as such because of their
contained marine fossils) compromise sandstones, fossiliferous limestones and shales.Within Makhtesh Ramon
angiosperm-like macrofossils and angiospermous pollen grains are found in the lower Hatira Formation sandstones, which
also contain marine intercalations with invertebrate fossils, and are topped by the Ramon basalts. The conformable upper
Hatira Formation is exposed in the northern slopes of Makhtesh Ramon, and consists of variegated cross-bedded
sandstones with lenticular, finely laminated siltstones and marly claystones containing occasional marine fossils and locally
abundant terrestrial plant debris. The fossil plant assemblages consist of ferns, ginkgophytes, conifers and the “earliest”
angiosperm macrofossils in the stratigraphic sequence (Krassilov et al. 2007). Trunks, roots, fronds and particulate debris of
the fern Weichselia are numerically dominant. Next in abundance are narrow angiospermous leaves of several
morphotypes, often forming mat-like bedding-plane accumulations that are constantly associated with Weichselia. The other
angiosperms are broad-leafed morphotypes, such as the peltate (shield-shaped) Nelumbites or those with sub-peltate
platanoid leaves all of which are relatively infrequent, poorly preserved and “apparently” allochthonous (transported),
together with occasional leaves and cone scales of araucariaceous conifers. Not only is the evidence that this fossil plant
debris was water-transported, but the presence of impressions of insect egg sets on some of the leaf blades (up to 250 eggs
on one leaf) indicate transport, deposition, burial and fossilisation had to be rapid, as it would have been under Flood
conditions.In the subsurface of the very northern part of the Negev, the lower Cretaceous Kurnub Group sequence becomes
increasingly “marine” (that is, contains marine fossils), and the amount of shales and carbonates increases considerably at
the expense of sandstones (Garfunkel 1978). Under the southern coastal plain the sequence is largely marine. The
thickness of the Hatira Formation increases from about 200 m (656 ft) in the central Negev to about 400 m (1,312 ft) in the
Hatira cirque to the east, while under the southern coastal plain the lower Cretaceous beds are 1,100 m (3,609 ft) thick. In
central and northern Israel this mainly clastic Kurnub Group sequence is 800–1,000 m (2,625–3,280 ft) thick. The upper part
of the sequence is exposed in several places in central Galilee, while the whole sequence is exposed on the southeastern
slopes of Mt. Hermon (fig. 16) and in a small area of the Samaria (fig. 19) (Freund 1978). The sequence begins with alkaline
lavas and tuffs, followed by variegated sandstones with fossilized tree remains (figs 16 and 19). A limestone cliff, referred to
as “Muraille de Blanche”, marks the middle of the Kurnub Group, which terminates with about 250 m (820 ft) of yellow
fossiliferous marls containing some beds of oolitic iron oxides.As already indicated, during deposition of the lower
Cretaceous Kurnub Group sedimentary rocks there was a brief period of magmatism and volcanism in Israel and
neighboring areas (Garfunkel 1978).
Fig. 19. Columnar stratigraphic section of the upper Jurassic Arad Group and lower Cretaceous Kurnub Group strata
exposed at Wadi Malik in Samaria, central Israel (after Freund 1978).This included the gabbro laccolith, quartz syenite
plutons and other intrusions exposed in Makhtesh Ramon in the central Negev, the basalt and trachyte dikes and sills, and
the basalt flows referred to above as the Ramon basalt (Baer 1993; Garfunkel 1989; Itamar and Baer 1993; Rophe, Eyal
and Eyal 1993). These have been radioisotope dated, yielding various lower Cretaceous ages (Lang et al. 1988; Lang and
Steinitz 1985; Lang and Steinitz 1987; Starinsky, Bielski and Steinitz 1980). The intrusions were primarily emplaced in the
Triassic Ramon Group and the Jurassic Arad Group, producing metasomatic alteration of the host limestones, for example,
in the Saharonim and Ardon Formations (fig. 15). A pavement of the Jurassic Inmar Formation sandstone in Makhtesh
Ramon, on a hill known locally as “The Carpentry,” consists of prismatic pillars of hard quartzite, with 3–8 facets, which are
3–12 cm (1.2–4.7 in.) wide and 20–80 cm (7.9–31.5 in.) long (fig. 20) (Mazor 1993). These pillars occur in beds with a total
thickness of about 6 m (20 ft), outcropping along 60 m (197 ft). This and other such “carpentries” in the Inmar Formation
within the Makhtesh Ramon occur near emplaced magmatic bodies, but they have no direct contact with the pillars, so it has
been suggested that these quartzitic pillars were formed by hot fluids that accompanied the igneous intrusions infiltrating
into the sandstone. The basalt dikes may have been the conduits from which the Makhtesh Ramon basalts flowed (fig. 15),
interrupting deposition of the Hatira Formation sandstones of the lower Cretaceous Kurnub Group. The Arod Conglomerate
at the base of the Kurnub Group also contains trachyte pebbles eroded from the trachyte dikes (Garfunkel 1989). The lower
Cretaceous basalts seem to have only covered a relatively small area in the central Negev, and neighboring east Sinai
(Bartov et al. 1980), but a small basalt plug intruded into Cambrian beds at Timna has a lower Cretaceous K-Ar age (Beyth
and Segev 1983), suggesting these basalt flows may have originally extended much further southwards.
Fig. 20. The “pavement” of upper Jurassic Arad Group Inmar Formation sandstone in Makhtesh Ramon known locally as
“The Carpentry.” (a). A wide view showing the vertical prismatic pillars of hard quartzite (baked sandstone), with 3–8 facets,
in beds about 6 m (20 ft) thick. (b) An end on view showing that most of the pillars have 5–6 facets, and are generally about
6–8 cm (2.4–3.2 in.) wide.In the Samaria-Galilee area, considerable magmatism also occurred, known mainly from the
subsurface (Garfunkel 1989). Drillholes which reached below the Cretaceous sequence penetrated up to 400 m (1,312 ft) of
extrusives, mainly olivine basalts and tuffs, known as the Tayasir Volcanics. They also outcrop in Wadi Malih in the Somron
area, some 10 km (6 mi.) west of the Jordan Valley in northeastern Samaria, where they are 230 m (755 ft) thick (fig. 19)
(Freund 1978; Lang and Mimran 1985; Mimran 1972). Within the tuffs are thin beds of laminated shales that are slightly
calcareous and contain plant remains, well-preserved skeletons or prints of fish up to 10 cm (4 in.) long, fossil tadpoles and
ostracodes. The eastward extension of this volcanic field, offset by the Dead Sea transform fault, is exposed in the south of
Mt. Hermon (Garfunkel 1989). There numerous small basalt intrusions cross the upper Jurassic beds, extrusives occur at
the base of the lower Cretaceous Kurnub Group sequence (fig. 16) (Freund 1978), and several vents delimited by faults are
present (Garfunkel 1989). Geochemical studies show these basalts range from thoeliitic to alkaline and form a typical
intraplate suite with a geochemical signature similar to ocean island basalts. K-Ar dating of rocks from both the Wadi Malih
and Mt. Hermon outcrops yielded uppermost Jurassic to lower Cretaceous ages (Lang and Mimran 1985; Shimron and Lang
1988).
Judea Group (middle Cretaceous)
The middle Cretaceous sedimentary units of the Judea Group are widely exposed in southern Israel, where in Makhtesh
Ramon in the central Negev they are collectively up to 520 m (1,706 ft) thick (fig. 21). To the north of the Negev, outcrops of
the Judea Group form the backbone of the mountains of Israel, where the group is about 800 m (2,625 ft) thick and
dominated by dolomite. There are facies changes laterally, so that the stratigraphic subdivisions and their names have been
defined differently in the Negev (fig. 21) compared with in the Judean Hills to the north (fig. 22).In the Negev, the Judea
Group sequence has been divided into the following formations (fig. 21) (Avni 1993; Bartov, et al. 1972; Bartov and Steinitz
1977; Garfunkel 1978):The Hazera Formation consists predominantly of fossiliferous limestone, dolomite and marl. It has
been subdivided into five members. The transition between the sandstones of the Hatira Formation on which the carbonate
sequence of the Hazera Formation always sits is quite abrupt. Compared with the Hazera Formation sequence in the central
Negev (in the Makhtesh Ramon area) towards the south, especially in the Elat area, shale and sandstone become
increasingly abundant. To the north and northwest the sequence (especially its lower part) becomes thicker and increasingly
dolomitic. Thus near the Dead Sea, in Judea and under the southern coastal plain it consists of a predominantly dolomitic
sequence, with some sandstone in the latter region (Arkin and Hamaoui 1967).The predominantly marly Derorim Formation
is only developed in part of the northern Negev, and is characterized by a rich ammonite fauna.The Shivta Formation
overlies the Derorim Formation, or the Hazera Formation where the latter is absent. It consists of poorly bedded fossiliferous
limestones, occasionally with chert concretions. It often contains fossil rudists, which are large horncoral-like pelecypods
(bivalve molluscs) (Moore, Lalicker and Fischer 1952), especially in its upper part where other fossils are also common.The
Nezer Formation consists of well-bedded limestone, mostly micritic, and occasionally contains sandstones.The Ora
Formation, developed only in the Makhtesh Ramon area and to the south, consists mainly of marl and shale with some
limestone interbeds. Oolitic limestone, gypsum and sandstone occur near its top. Its basal beds are rich in and often packed
with ammonites, as seen in the “Ammonite Wall” exposed in the southern side of Makhtesh Ramon (fig. 23). This dramatic
display of large ammonites all lying flat and regularly spaced at the same level in the same upturned bed is clearly testimony
to their catastrophic transport and burial by the Flood waters, as well as to the rapid deposition of the argillaceous dolomite
bed that encloses them. These basal beds are equivalent to the Derorim Formation, while higher ammonite-bearing beds
and the overlying parts of the Ora Formation which contain them are the lateral equivalents of the Shivta Formation.The cliff-
forming Gerofit Formation (fig. 24) overlies the Ora Formation, and consists predominantly of limestone, dolomite, and minor
chert, marl and shale. Sometimes this formation contains “banks” of accumulated fossil rudists, with fossil hydrozoa,
gastropods (fig. 25) and other pelecypod fragments present, that have been interpreted as “bioherms” (Bartov et al. 1972),
but instead would be the result of the rapid pile-up of such broken organic debris by the Flood waters.The Zihor Formation
occurs above the Gerofit Formation only in the southern half of the Negev (Lewy 1975). It consists of a variety of
fossiliferous limestones, marls, sandy limestones and some dolomite. The dolomite is coarse-grained and sandy, and like
the sandy limestones often exhibits depositional structures such as planar crossbedding and ripple marks (Bartov et al.
1972), which are consistent with clastic deposition by the fast-moving Flood waters. The Zihor Formation forms a soft
landscape above the cliffs of the Gerofit Formation. Some confusion has existed over its classification. Because it resembles
the underlying beds and its top is an unconformity, it is usually included in the Judea Group. However, due to its claimed
fossil age, where its upper boundary is indistinct it has sometimes been included in the overlying upper Cretaceous–
Paleocene Mt. Scopus Group.The fossiliferous sections in the lower Judea Group sequence in the Negev contrast with the
dolomite-rich sections north of it, indicating different depositional conditions and source materials. The sandstone
occurrences are compatible with sediment transport from the south and southwest (Garfunkel 1978). Sedimentation patterns
then changed in response to differential subsidence, so that by the time the upper Judea Group was deposited the northern
part of the Negev had become a relatively uplifted area, on which reduced thicknesses of sediments were deposited. South
of it much thicker sections accumulated in a relatively subsiding area. There was an influx of clastics, so argillaceous
sedimentation extended over much of the Negev. The occurrences of fossil ammonites seem to outline several depositional
“belts”, which have been interpreted as a result of structurally controlled depressions in which the waters were deeper than
in nearby areas (Freund 1961). However, these belts in the Negev may not have just been associated with marked
thickness variations, as facies changes may also have been involved, such as the calcareous sedimentation in the
northernmost Negev and beyond, in contrast to the marly-shaly sedimentation in the central and southern Negev. The
distribution of upper Judea Group sandstones indicates a southwesterly provenance.
Fig. 21. Composite stratigraphic section for the western area of Makhtesh Ramon with a detailed legend (p. 143) (after Avni
1993). The hard strata of the thick middle
Cretaceous Judea Group are prominent.
Fig. 22. Lithostratigraphic relationships within the middle Cretaceous Judea Group strata in the Judean Hills (after Sass and
Bein 1982). Limestones and dolomites predominate.Three distinct types of siliceous rocks are closely associated with
specific carbonate facies, and thus seem to be related to the depositional conditions. First, there are coarse to medium
crystalline silicified rocks termed quartzolites (fig. 22). These usually contain well-preserved skeletal fragments, where the
fossil fragments are silicified either selectively or differently from the matrix. On the basis of textural and mineralogical
criteria, the formation of these quartzolites and their crystal fabrics is considered to be early diagenetic (Sass and Bein
1982). They are characteristically associated with the coarsely crystalline dolomites. Second, chert occurs as nodules and
thin layers, and is quite common in the Soreq and Beit Me’ir Formations (fig. 22). Cherts are rarely associated with the
quartzolites, indicating different modes of formation. Third, there are quartz geodes which contain minor anhydrite
inclusions, with relics of original anhydrite nodules. They occur sporadically in, and are a characteristic of, the Soreq and
Beit Me’ir Formations, and thus are only associated with the finely crystalline dolomites.The Motza Formation (fig. 22) marks
a stratigraphic break between the underlying sequence of dominantly finely crystalline, well-bedded dolomites and the
overlying coarsely crystalline dolomites. It is the only non-dolomitic unit in the Judea Group with a widespread areal
distribution, consisting mainly of marl and claystone, with some limestone intercalations and rich marine fossil assemblages.
Fig. 26. The Temple Mount (Mt. Moriah), Jerusalem, as seen from the
Mount of Olives. The golden Dome of the Rock can be seen top right, and
the southeastern corner of the wall of the Old City to the left, with the
Kidron Valley below. The Old City is built on the uppermost beds of
limestones and dolomites of the Judea Group (middle Cretaceous), which
are exposed beneath the wall. The boundary with the overlying Mt. Scopus
Group chalk beds is in the Kidron Valley.Of particular significance is the
presence of fossilized dinosaur tracks in the Soreq Formation (fig. 22) at
Beit Zeit, a few kilometers west of Jerusalem (Avnimelech 1962, 1966).
Over an 80 m2 (860 ft2) area, in the top of an exposed pavement of
dolomite, are more than 20 footprint impressions in a continuous row
almost 20 m (66 ft) long (fig. 27a). They belong apparently to a single
individual. On both sides of this row there are more prints, smaller and less
distinct. Each of the footprints in the row show three toes, of which the
middle one is 24–26 cm (9–10 in.) long, while the side toes average 20 cm
(8 in.) length (fig. 27c). The angle between the toes is about 40°. The
distance between the successive alternate footprints is about 80 cm (31
in.) (fig. 27b), so that the distance between one print and the next made by
the same foot is around 160 cm (63 in.) or 1.6 m (5.2 ft). Evidently the
animal was a bipedal dinosaur, with long and strong hind-feet and
probably short fore-feet. On the basis of these data it has been concluded
that the hind legs of this theropod dinosaur were approximately 120 cm (47
in.) or 1.2 m (4 ft) high, and that the length of this individual’s entire body
with its big tail and expanded neck was 2.5 m (8 ft) or more, making its
normal erect posture about 2 m (6.6 ft) tall.It is because of these fossilized
dinosaur footprints that it is envisaged the Soreq Formation dolomites, with
minor marls and cherts, were deposited in very shallow water under evaporitic conditions. However, such slow-and-gradual
depositional conditions today do not preserve footprint impressions. Nor would dinosaurs have lived in shallow salty water
where there was no food to eat! Moving shallow water today will degrade the “walls” of such impressions soon after being
made in wet dolomitic sands and muds, and any prolonged period of exposure would obliterate them. On the other hand, the
making of these fossilized dinosaur footprints can be explained under the prevailing conditions during the Flood (Snelling
2010b). As already indicated, the dolomitic sands and muds would have been precipitated from hot Mg-carbonate-rich
hydrothermal fluids, mixing with the colder Flood waters. During a very brief tidal drop in the water level, this theropod
dinosaur (that had earlier been swept away in the Flood waters, in which it was then floundering) was able to walk across a
rapidly and temporarily exposed (or semi-exposed) surface of the dolomitic sand/mud leaving its footprints behind. That
surface would have been firm due to the cohesiveness of the semi-wet dolomite, where a chemical reaction would start to
“set” the dolomite, just as occurs today in very similar man-made cement, retaining the footprint impressions. However, this
would have occurred in the brief timeframe before the next tidal surge raised the water level again and swept away the
dinosaur, and rapidly covered the footprints with more dolomitic sediments to preserve them. This entire sequence had to
have occurred within hours, with its rapid burial and with hardening of the dolomite pavement completed by the weight of the
overlying layers squeezing the water out of it, or else these dinosaur footprints would not have been fossilized. Nothing like
this happens under today’s conditions. And if this shallow water evaporitic depositional environment had been proximal to
where this dinosaur supposedly lived, its bones should be found buried nearby. On the contrary, this dinosaur was swept
away in the Flood waters to eventually perish, any trace of its bones likely being buried far away from its footprints, and
much higher in the rapidly deposited strata sequence (Brand and Florence 1982; Snelling 2009b).
Fig. 28. Lithostratigraphic relationships within the middle Cretaceous Judea Group strata in the Mt. Carmel area south of
Haifa (after Sass and Bein 1982). Though dominated by limestones and dolomites, there are frequent intertonguing lateral
and vertical facies changes, locally interbedded volcanics, and some claimed “fossil reef” structures that simply represent
mounds of limestone debris with fossils (see figs. 29–32).Intertonguing with the Judea Group even further to the west along
the coast is the Talme Yafe Formation (Bein and Weiler 1976; Sass and Bein 1982) (fig. 28). This unit is a huge prism-
shaped accumulation (more than 3,000 m (9,842 ft) thick, about 20 km (12 mi.) wide, and at least 150 km (93 mi.) long) of a
homogeneous sequence of calcareous detritus deposited primarily as calcilutites (calcareous mudstones) and laminites
(turbidites), which are made up of alternating calcilutite and fine calcarenite (calcareous sandstone) laminae. Thin chert
horizons are quite abundant. The calcareous detritus consists of minute skeletal fragments of rudistids, echinoids, abraded
foraminifers and probably various molluscs, and of carbonate rock clasts. The residue is mostly clays, and siliceous faunal
remains such as sponge spicules. Calcirudites (calcareous conglomerates) are found at the base of the sequence. The main
extension of these sediments is found in the subsurface of the western part of the coastal plain and offshore, and a small
part is exposed in the northwestern Carmel area. This prism (or wedge) is interpreted as being deposited off the continental
margin of the northwestern Arabian Craton (Israel) on the continental slope and beyond at its base, the transport of all this
carbonate debris from the shelf platform over the edge onto the slope probably being done by storms and tidal currents.
Downslope movement would have been in water layers with suspended sediments (debris flows) and gravity-induced
(turbidity) currents.
Fig. 29. Generalized north-facing cross-section through the claimed Nahal Hame’arot “fossil reef” complex in the upper
Judea Group (middle Cretaceous) strata of the southwestern Carmel area (after Freund 1978). Note that this is only one
possible interpretation of the outcrop. Karstic caves are depicted in this north-facing cliff face (see fig. 31), the most famous
of which is the Tabun cave where Neanderthal remains were found above stone tools in the sediments on the cave floor.
All the carbonate clastic materials and the tiny skeletal fragments in the thick Talme Yafe Formation are claimed to have
been derived from the rudistid “reefs” built on the edge of the continental platform, often as barriers that accumulated
dolomites and limestones behind them across the platform. Many other similar examples are found around the world (James
and Bourque 1992). But were these really barrier and platform reefs that therefore required countless years to be built, a
timeframe inconsistent with the global Flood year? A typical good example of one of these rudistid reef structures is found at
Nahal Hame’arot, near the southern end of the Carmel Hills (Freund 1978) (figs 29 and 30). It is said to consist of a
rudist Chondrodonta and Nerinea reef core, fore-reef talus, and back-reef “lagoonal” dolomites (Bein 1976). Also present in
this example are karstic caves that were inhabited by early post-Babel human settlers (for example, Neanderthals in the
Tabun cave) (figs 29 and 31).
Fig. 30. The south-
facing cliff section
through the claimed
“fossil reef” complex,
as exposed by the
erosion of the Nahal
Hame’arot valley. (a)
A view of the actual
outcrop. (b) The
signboard showing the
interpreted “fossil reef”
complex. Note that the
rugged outcrop with
almost vertical sides in
the center of (a) is interpreted as the “reef core” in (b), depicted with a jumble of fossilized rudists (the “horn” shapes).
However, the so-called reef core is made up of a jumbled mass of these fossilized rudists (large horncoral-like pelecypods),
in places only fragmented rudists, set in a biomicrite matrix, that is, a matrix of fine mud-sized calcareous particles
consisting of biological debris derived from the violent destruction of other molluscs, echinoids, ammonites, foraminifers, and
more (fig. 32). The “fore-reef” talus consists of biosparites (skeletal fragments set in a lime cement) and biosparrudites
(conglomerates made up of biosparite clasts set in a biosparite matrix) which are usually well-sorted and well-rounded and
are considered to be reef-debris material that accumulated on the “reef” flanks (Sass and Bein 1982). Such debris beds
often dip at about 25°–30°. It is also significant that these so-called reefs only consist of rudists and lack the variety of
encrusting organisms inhabiting almost all modern reefs (Bein 1976; James and Bourque 1992). Yet it is claimed that the
framework stability of these “reefs” was achieved solely through the “unique growth-pattern” of the rudists (Bein 1976). Such
a claim cannot be sustained by observations of the framework construction of modern reefs by numerous varieties of corals,
pelecypods, sponges, echinoids and more in growth positions, compared to these rudist-only “reefs” where the rudists are
not in growth positions, but are in a jumbled mass cemented by a matrix of biological debris. Thus the evidence emphatically
does not support the claim these are grown-in-place reefs. Rather, these are mounds of transported and piled up calcareous
debris derived from the violent destruction of other molluscs, echinoids, etc., the larger rudists having survived largely intact
by the sorting action of the Flood waters to be buried in these debris piles, all possibly within hours to days due to raging
water currents during violent storms.
Fig. 33. Lithostratigraphic relationships within the middle Cretaceous Judea Group strata in the Galilee region (after Sass
and Bein 1982). Dolomite and chalk beds predominate.The claimed reef complexes are again open to an alternative Flood
interpretation. The long and narrow, massive “reef cores” are surrounded by steep (25°) or gentle (10°) “foreset” beds
(Freund 1965). The shells of the “framework builders” (rudists and gastropods) were mostly disintegrated, supposedly due to
the boring activity of sponges and algae, so that hardly any of the few rudists (Durania) found are in what might be
interpreted as the original growth position. It has even been admitted that these “fossil reefs” cannot be compared with
modern coral reefs. The “reef cores” in fact consist of fragmental biogenic limestone, and one of them is capped by a
calcareous conglomerate. The claimed “foreset beds” flanking the “reef cores” are in fact cross-bedded pelletal and sandy
limestone units that are admitted to have likely formed by erosion and vigorous water currents. Thus the evidence instead
favors the interpretation that these so-called reef complexes are in fact simply depositional features due to the rapid and
varied actions of the Flood waters, vigorous currents piling up this biogenic and carbonate rock debris.
Mt. Scopus Group (upper Cretaceous–Paleocene)
Overlying the Judea Group locally in erosional and angular unconformity on the east and west sides of the Judean Hills are
the “soft” chalk and marl, with some chert beds, of the Mt. Scopus Group. Conventionally these layers are regarded as
uppermost Cretaceous to Paleocene (lowermost Tertiary). The Mt. Scopus Group ranges in thickness from 0–500 m (0–
1,640 ft) according to the structural position on pre-depositional folds and fault blocks (Freund 1978). It averages about 300
m (984 ft) thick. In Jerusalem the boundary between the uppermost Judea Group limestone beds and the overlying softer
chalk beds of the Mt. Scopus Group dips eastward along the Kidron Valley, with the latter beds outcropping on the Mount of
Olives to the east of the old city (fig. 34). The chert component in this group increases southwards. There are four
formations recognized in the Mt. Scopus Group in the Negev (Garfunkel 1978) (figs. 15 and 21):The Menuha Formation,
primarily consisting of chalk, disconformably overlies the Zihor or Nezer Formations in the Negev. Thus the stratigraphic
position of its base varies (Lewy 1975). Where the formation’s sequence is complete, the middle part contains a bed of
phosphate, somewhat sandy, which in the south contains chert and marl. The thickness and stratigraphic scope of this
formation strongly depend on its structural position, so that in the Makhtesh Ramon area of the central Negev the formation
is from 0–97 m (0–318 ft) thick.The Mishash Formation lies conformably on the Menuha Formation, or unconformably on
older beds. It is characterized by massive chert beds, accompanied by variable amounts of porcellanite, chalk, marl,
claystone, fossiliferous and concretional limestone and phosphorite (Kolodny 1967). Two facies within the formation have
been distinguished. The Haroz facies, in which the formation consists of flint only, is developed in part of the northern
Negev. It passes laterally into the Ashosh facies in which the additional lithologies are prominent. To the west and northwest
the Mishash Formation passes into a continuous chalky facies (Flexer 1968).The Sayyarim Formation is the southern
equivalent of the Menuha and Mishash Formations (fig. 35). A tongue of chert, marl, limestone and dolomite appears in the
Menuha Formation in the southern Negev, and near Elat sandstone (sometimes quartzitic) becomes important. Still farther
south the distinct identity of the Mishash Formation is also lost (Bartov and Steinitz 1977).The Ghareb Formation consists of
yellowish, slightly phosphatic chalk and marl, with minor quantities of dolomite. These rocks are often bituminous. Unlike the
underlying formations, this formation’s lithologies are rather uniform over wide areas, though they wedge out over structural
highs.The lowermost Tertiary (Paleocene) Taqiye Formation is a distinct unit between the Ghareb Formation and the
overlying Avedat Group in some locations (Bartov et al. 1972; Bartov and Steinitz 1977; Flexer 1968). The base of the
Taqiye Formation, which is up to 50 m (164 ft) thick, is defined as the first appearance of green shales. Calcareous shales
and marls, rich in limonite concretions which have a pyritic core, gradually pass upwards into argillaceous chalks and chalky
limestones.
Fig. 36. Cliffs of Avedat Group (Eocene) chalk beds on either side of Wadi
Zin at En Avedat, on the northern fringes of the Avedat Plateau in the
northern Negev south of Beer Sheva.Conformably overlying the Taqiye
Formation of the Mt. Scopus Group is the Avedat Group, conventionally
assigned to the Eocene Series (figs. 15 and 21). Composed of 400–500 m
(1,312–1,640 ft) thickness of limestone and chalk beds, the Avedat Group
also contains marine fossils. Somewhat harder than the underlying Mt.
Scopus Group, it tends to form more resistant ridges and elevated
plateaus above the Mt. Scopus strata. Named after the Avedat Plateau
south of Beer Sheva (fig. 36) (Bartov et al. 1972), the Avedat Group strata are especially common in structurally low areas,
and remnants extend from the Elat area in the south through the Negev to northern Israel. Cliffs of Avedat Group chalk beds
occur near Beer Sheva (fig. 37) and also stand beside the valley of Elah (fig. 38) where Goliath challenged the army of
Israel, above the brook where David chose five smooth stones (1 Samuel 17).
In the Elat area all four formations within the group, as defined in the Avedat area, can be recognized (fig. 21) (Bartov et al.
1972; Garfunkel 1978). Where the group is complete here it is quite thick at approximately 210 m (689 ft), and consists of
chalk, and limestone with variable amounts of chert. Characteristically it is poor in macro-fossils, but is rich in planktonic and
benthonic foraminifers. Large foraminifers, like nummulites, are common. The four formations of the Avedat Group in this
complete section near Elat are:The
Mor Formation, 105 m (344 ft) thick, consists mostly of white chalk with black chert occurring in thin to medium lenticular
layers. Most of the chert is homogeneous, but some is breccoidal. The chalk often contains dolomite rhombs and phosphate
grains, and is silicified. In places, limestone concretions are present within the chalk, their size varying from a few
centimeters to 1 m (3.3 ft).
The Nizzana Formation is 65 m (213 ft) thick, and is composed of alternating yellowish-brown detrital (bioclastic) limestones,
phosphoritic limestones, concretionary limestone layers and chalk, with beds and lenses of chert nodules. The limestones
are rich in fossil fragments, and sometimes contain macro-fossils. Intraformational conglomerates (calcirudites) and slump
structures are common.
The overlying Horsha Formation, 35 m (115 ft) thick, is composed of white, massive chalk beds with limonitic impregnations
topped by variegated shales, alternating with platy chalky limestones. This marly-chalky formation contains some glauconite,
today found in marine environments. Its non-carbonate fraction contains clinoptilolite (a zeolite mineral), opal and
palygorskite (a clay mineral) associated with montmorillonite (another clay mineral), all indicative of original volcanic
components, now altered.
The overlying Matred Formation is only 15 m (49 ft) thick, and is composed of yellowish, hard, dense and coarse crystalline
limestones with abundant nummulites. Chert and some glauconite also occur. The limestones often show cross-bedding,
indicative of swift water-current deposition of lime sand in sand waves (Austin 1994).
Uluru
Uluru rises steeply on all sides to a height of about 340 metres (1,114 feet) above the desert plain, its summit 867 metres
(2,845 feet) above sea level. An isolated rock-mass, it measures nine kilometres (5.6 miles) around its base. Uluru may look
like a giant boulder sitting in the desert sand, but it is
not (Figure 2, below). Instead, it is like the ‘tip of the
iceberg’, an enormous outcrop with even more of the
same rock under the ground and beneath the
surrounding desert sand.Uluru consists of many
layers or beds of the same rock tilted and standing
almost up on end (dipping at 80–85°). The cumulative
thickness of these exposed beds is at least 2.5
kilometres (1.6 miles), but the additional layers under
the surrounding desert sand bring the overall
thickness to almost six kilometres (3.75 miles).Uluru
consists of a type of coarse sandstone known
technically as arkose, because a major component is
grains and crystal fragments of the mineral feldspar.
This pink mineral, along with the rusty coatings on the
sand grains in the rock surface generally, gives Uluru
its overall reddish colour. Closer inspection of this arkose reveals that the mineral grains are fresh in appearance,
particularly the shiny faces of feldspar crystals, some quite large. The rock fabric consists of large, medium, small, and very
small grains randomly mixed together, a condition geologists describe as ‘poorly sorted’ (see photomicrograph).
Furthermore, the grains themselves are often jagged around their edges, not smooth or rounded.
Kata Tjuta
Kata Tjuta, about 30 kilometres (18 miles) west of Uluru, consists
of a series of huge, rounded rocky domes (Figure 3, below). The
highest, Mt Olga, reaches 1069 metres (3,507 feet) above sea
level and about 600 metres (1,970 feet) above the desert floor.
Separated by narrow gorges, these spectacular domed rock-
masses cover an area of about eight kilometres (five miles) by
five kilometres (three miles). The rock layers here only dip at
angles of 10–18° to the southwest, but are enormous. Their total
thickness is six kilometres (3.75 miles), and they extend under
the desert sands to other outcrops for over 15 kilometres (9.5 miles) to the north-east and for more than 40 kilometres (25
miles) to the north-west.These rock layers making up Kata Tjuta are collectively called the Mount Currie Conglomerate,
named after the outcrop at Mount Currie, about 35 kilometres (22 miles) north-west of Kata Tjuta. A conglomerate is a
poorly sorted sedimentary rock containing pebbles, cobbles, and boulders of other rocks held together by a matrix of finer
fragments and cemented sand, silt, and/or mud. In this one, the boulders (up to 1.5 metres or five feet across), cobbles, and
pebbles are generally rounded and consist mainly of granite and basalt, but some sandstone, rhyolite (a volcanic rock), and
several kinds of metamorphic rocks are also present. The matrix is mostly dark greyish-green material that was once fine silt
and mud, though lenses and beds of lighter coloured sandstone also occur.The Uluru Arkose and the Mount Currie
Conglomerate appear to be related by a common history. Though their outcrops are isolated from one another, the evidence
clearly suggests that both rock units were formed at the same time and in the same way.
Figure 2. Cross-section through Uluru showing the tilted layers of arkose continuing under the surrounding desert sand.
Figure 3. Cross-section through Kata Tjuta showing the slightly tilted layers of Mount Currie Conglomerate.
The evolutionary ‘history’
Most geologists believe that between about 900 and 600 million years ago, much of Central Australia lay at or below sea-
level, forming a depression, an arm of the sea, known as the Amadeus Basin. Rivers carried mud, sand, and gravel into the
depression, building up layers of sediment. Other types of sedimentary rocks also formed. Then, they say, about 550 million
years ago, in the so-called Cambrian Period, the south-western margin of the Amadeus Basin was raised above sea-level,
the rocks were squeezed, crumpled and buckled into folds, and fractured along faults in a mountain-building episode.During
the later stages of this episode, ‘rapid’ erosion carved out the Petermann and Musgrave Ranges. The Uluru Arkose and
Mount Currie Conglomerate are the products of this erosion, being deposited in separate so-called alluvial fans (Figure 4A).
Though uniformitarian (slow-and-gradual) geologists believe the arkose and conglomerate were deposited ‘relatively
rapidly’, they still allow up to 50 million years for the occasional flash floods to have scoured the mountain ranges south and
west of the Uluru area and carried the rubble many tens of kilometres out on to the adjoining alluvial flats. Thus in two
separate deposits, layer upon layer of arkose and conglomerate accumulated respectively.By about 500 million years ago, it
is claimed, the region was again covered by a shallow sea and the alluvial fans of Uluru Arkose and Mount Currie
Conglomerate were gradually buried beneath layers of sand, silt, mud and limestone (Figure 4B). Then about 400 million
years ago a new period of folding, faulting and uplift began and supposedly continued for around 100 million years. The
layers of Uluru Arkose and Mount Currie Conglomerate, which had been buried by hundreds or even thousands of metres of
younger Amadeus Basin sediments, were strongly folded and faulted (Figure 4C). The originally horizontal Uluru Arkose
layers were rotated into a nearly vertical position, while the Mount Currie Conglomerate at Kata Tjuta was only tilted 10–18°.
It is thus believed that the Uluru-Kata Tjuta area has probably remained above sea-level since that time—for some 300
million years. Initially the land surface would have been much higher than the top of Uluru and Kata Tjuta, but as erosion
continued, today’s shapes of Uluru and Kata Tjuta were gradually carved out (Figure 4D). By 70 million years ago the area
was covered in forests indicating a very wet, tropical environment. Today’s arid climate and desert sands have only
developed since the very recent ‘ice age’, a few thousand years ago.
No!—A recent catastrophic flood origin
Figure 4. The likely geological history or sequence of events leading to the formation of Kata Tjuta and Uluru (irrespective of
any evolutionary assumptions).
A. The 'alluvial fans' of Mount Currie Conglomerate (left—red) and Uluru Arkose (right—yellow) deposited on a basement of
folded and eroded earlier sediments (orange) and granites (grey-green).
B. The Mount Currie Conglomerate and
Uluru Arkose are buried by other sediments
(blue).
C. The sediment layers are floded, faulted,
tilted and then eroded.
D. Further erosion lowers the ground surface
still more and carves out Kata Tjuta and
Uluru as they are today.Now that all sounds
like an interesting story, but in fact, the
evidence in these rock layers doesn’t agree
with it! At Uluru particularly, the ubiquitous
fresh feldspar crystals in the arkose would
never have survived the claimed millions of
years. Feldspar breaks down when exposed
to the sun’s heat, water, and air (e.g., in a
humid tropical climate), and relatively quickly
forms clays. If the arkose was deposited as
sheets of sand only centimetres (an inch or
two) thick spread over many tens of square
kilometres to dry in the sun’s heat over
countless thousands of years, then the
feldspar crystals would have decomposed to
clays. Likewise, if the arkose had been
exposed to the destructive forces of erosion
and tropical deep chemical weathering even
for just a few million years, as is claimed, then the feldspar crystals would have long ago decomposed to clays. Either way,
the sandstone fabric would have become weakened and then collapsed, as the clays and remaining unbound mineral grains
would have easily disintegrated and been entirely washed away, leaving no Uluru at all!Furthermore, sand grains which are
moved over long distances and periodically swept further and further over vast eons of time would lose their jagged edges,
becoming smooth and rounded. At the same time, the same sand grains being acted upon by the moving water over those
claimed long periods of time should also be sorted; the smaller grains are carried more easily by water, so would be
separated from the larger grains. Thus if the Uluru Arkose had taken millions of years to accumulate as evolutionary
geologists claim, then the rock today should have layers of either small or large grains. So fresh, shiny feldspar crystals and
jagged, unsorted grains today all indicate that the Uluru Arkose accumulated so rapidly the feldspar did not have enough
time to decompose, nor the grains to be rounded and sorted.What of the Mount Currie Conglomerate? Even geologists who
believe in slow-and-gradual sedimentation over millions of years have to admit that the waters which carried such large
boulders (some over 1.5 metres or five feet across) had to be a swiftly-flowing, raging torrent.
Such catastrophic conditions would also need to be widespread in order to erode such a variety of rock types from the large
mountainous source region, and to produce the resultant mixture of particle sizes—from mud (pulverized rock) and silt to
pebbles, cobbles, and boulders which, because of their size, were also rounded and smoothed by the violence of their rapid
transport over tens of kilometres.All this evidence is far more consistent with recent catastrophic deposition of the arkose
and conglomerate under raging flood conditions. In the exposures at Uluru and Kata Tjuta respectively, the rock
compositions and fabrics are uniformly similar throughout (2.5 kilometres or 1.6 miles thick in the case of Uluru) and the
layering extremely regular and parallel. If deposition had been episodic over millions of years, there ought to be evidence of
erosion (e.g., channels) and weathering surfaces between layers, while some compositional and fabric variations would be
expected.
Staggering
The implications are absolutely staggering. One only has to consider the amount and force of water needed to dump some
6,000 metres (almost 20,000 feet) thickness of sand, and a similar thickness of pebbles, cobbles, boulders, etc., probably in
a matter of hours, after having transported these sediments many tens of kilometres, to realise that such an event had to be
a catastrophic flood. And this traumatic event had to be recent, otherwise the feldspar crystals in the arkose would not be as
fresh (unweathered) as they are today.
The Uluru Arkose as seen under a geological microscope. Note the mixtures of grain
sizes and the jagged edges of the grains. Since the layers of arkose and
conglomerate are now tilted, the arkose almost vertically, it is also obvious that after
being deposited these sediment layers were compressed and began to be cemented
(hardened) while still water-saturated, and then pushed up by earth movements.
Those experts in landscape-forming processes, who have intensively studied Uluru,
Kata Tjuta, and other Central Australian landforms, are convinced that these shapes
were carved out by water erosion in a hot, humid tropical climate, and not by wind
erosion as in today’s dry desert climate.This is easily explained if the modern
landforms of Uluru and Kata Tjuta developed as the same catastrophic flood waters,
which dumped the arkose and conglomerate in the vast depression they occupied,
began to retreat away from the emerging land surface of rising, tilted layers, eroding
the still relatively soft sediments to leave behind the shapes of Uluru and Kata Tjuta.
Following the retreat of those flood waters from the Australian continent, the
landscape began to dry out. The chemicals in the water still trapped between grains of sand, pebbles, boulders, etc.
continued to form a binding and hardening material similar to cement in concrete.
Conclusion
The evidence overall does not fit the story of evolutionary geologists, with its millions of years of slow-and-gradual
processes. Instead, the evidence in the rock layers at Uluru and Kata Tjuta is much more consistent with the scientific model
based on a recent, rapid, massive, catastrophic flood. Uluru and Kata Tjuta are therefore stark testimony to the raging
waters of the global Flood.
Startling Evidence for Global Flood
Footprints and Sand ‘Dunes’ in a Grand Canyon Sandstone!
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling and Dr. Steve Austin on December 1, 1992
Originally published in Creation 15, no 1 (December 1992): 46-50.
Footprints and sand ‘dunes’ in a Grand Canyon sandstone provide startling evidence for Gobal Flood.
Shop Now‘There is no sight on earth which matches Grand Canyon. There are other canyons, other mountains and other
rivers, but this Canyon excels all in scenic grandeur. Can any visitor, upon viewing Grand Canyon, grasp and appreciate the
spectacle spread before him? The ornate sculpture work and the wealth of color are like no other landscape. They suggest
an alien world. The scale is too outrageous. The sheer size and majesty engulf the intruder, surpassing his ability to take it
in.’1Anyone who has stood on the rim and looked down into Grand Canyon would readily echo these words as one’s breath
is taken away with the sheer magnitude of the spectacle. The Canyon stretches for 277 miles (446 kilometres) through
northern Arizona, attains a depth of more than 1 mile (1.6 kilometres), and ranges from 4 miles (6.4 kilometres) to 18 miles
(29 kilometres) in width. In the walls of the Canyon can be seen flat-lying rock layers that were once sand, mud or lime. Now
hardened, they look like pages of a giant book as they stretch uniformly right through the Canyon and underneath the
plateau country to the north and south and deeper to the east.
Figure 1. A panoramic view of the Grand Canyon from the South Rim at Yavapai Point. The Coconino Sandstone is the thick
buff-coloured layer close to the top of the canyon walls. Compare with Figure 2.
Figure 2. Grand Canyon in cross-section showing the names given to the different rock units by geologists.
The Coconino Sandstone
To begin to comprehend the awesome scale of these rock layers, we can choose any one for detailed examination. Perhaps
the easiest of these rock layers to spot, since it readily catches the eye, is a thick, pale buff coloured to almost white
sandstone near the top of the Canyon walls. Geologists have given the different rock layers names, and this one is called
the Coconino Sandstone (see Figures 1 and 2). It is estimated to have an average thickness of 315 feet (96 metres) and,
with equivalent sandstones to the east, covers an area of about 200,000 square miles (518,000 square kilometres).2 That is
an area more than twice the size of the Australian State of Victoria, or almost twice the area of the US State of Colorado!
Thus the volume of this sandstone is conservatively estimated at 10,000 cubic miles (41,700 cubic kilometres). That’s a lot
of sand!
Figure 3. Cross beds (inclined sub-layering) within the Coconino Sandstone, as
seen on the Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon.What do these rock layers in
Grand Canyon mean? What do they tell us about the earth’s past? For example,
how did all the sand in this Coconino Sandstone layer and its equivalents get to
where it is today?To answer these questions geologists study the features within
rock layers like the Coconino Sandstone, and even the sand grains themselves. An
easily noticed feature of the Coconino Sandstone is the distinct cross layers of sand
within it called cross beds (see Figure 3, right). For many years evolutionary
geologists have interpreted these cross beds by comparing them with currently
forming sand deposits — the sand dunes in deserts which are dominated by sand
grains made up of the mineral quartz, and which have inclined internal sand beds.
Thus it has been proposed that the Coconino Sandstone accumulated over
thousands and thousands of years in an immense windy desert by migrating sand
dunes, the cross beds forming on the down-wind sides of the dunes as sand was
deposited there.3
Figure 5. Schematic diagram showing the formation of cross beds during sand deposition by migration of underwater sand
waves due to sustained water flow.A considerable body of evidence is now available which indicates that the Coconino
Sandstone was deposited by the ocean, and not by desert accumulation of sand dunes as emphatically maintained by most
evolutionary geologists, including Christians like Davis Young. The cross beds within the Coconino Sandstone (that is, the
inclined beds of sand within the overall horizontal layer of sandstone) are excellent evidence that ocean currents moved the
sand rapidly as dune-like mounds called sand waves. Figure 5 (right) shows the way sand waves have been observed to
produce cross beds in layers of sand. The water current moves over the sand surface building up mounds of sand. The
current erodes sand from the ‘up-current’ side of the sand wave and deposits it as inclined layers on the ‘down-current’ side
of the sand wave. Thus the sand wave moves in the direction of current flow as the inclined strata continue to be deposited
on the down-current side of the sand wave. Continued erosion of sand by the current removes both the up-current side and
top of the sand wave, the only part usually preserved being just the lower half of the down-current side. Thus the height of
the cross beds preserved is just a fraction of the original sand wave height. Continued transportation of further sand will
result in repeated layers containing inclined cross beds. These will be stacked up on each other.Sand waves have been
observed on certain parts of the ocean floor and in rivers, and have been produced in laboratory studies. Consequently, it
has been demonstrated that the sand wave height is related to the water depth.15 As the water depth increases so does the
height of the sand waves which are produced. The heights of the sand waves are approximately one-fifth of the water depth.
Similarly, the velocities of the water currents that produce sand waves have been determined.Thus we have the means to
calculate both the depth and velocity of the water responsible for transporting as sand waves the sand that now makes up
the cross beds of the Coconino Sandstone. The thickest sets of cross beds in the Coconino Sandstone so far reported are
30 feet (9 metres) thick.16 Cross beds of that height imply sand waves at least 60 feet (18 metres) high and a water depth of
around 300 feet (between 90 and 95 metres). For water that deep to make and move sand waves as high as 60 feet (18
metres) the minimum current velocity would need to be over 3 feet per second (95 centimetres per second) or 2 miles per
hour. The maximum current velocity would have been almost 5.5 feet per second (165 cm or 1.65 metres per second) or
3.75 miles per hour. Beyond that velocity experimental and observational evidence has shown that flat sand beds only
would be formed.Now to have transported in such deep water the volume of sand that now makes up the Coconino
Sandstone these current velocities would have to have been sustained in the one direction perhaps for days. Modern tides
and normal ocean currents do not have these velocities in the open ocean, although deep-sea currents have been reported
to attain velocities of between 50 cm and 250 cm (2.5 metres) per second through geographical restrictions. Thus
catastrophic events provide the only mechanism, which can produce high velocity ocean currents over a wide
area.Hurricanes (or cyclones in the southern hemisphere) are thought to make modern sand waves of smaller size than
those that have produced the cross beds in the Coconino Sandstone, but no measurements of hurricane driven currents
approaching these velocities in deep water have been reported. The most severe modern ocean currents known have been
generated during a tsunami or ‘tidal wave’. In shallow oceans tsunami-induced currents have been reported on occasion to
exceed 500 cm (5 metres) per second, and currents moving in the one direction have been sustained for hours.17 Such an
event would be able to move large quantities of sand and, in its waning stages, build huge sand waves in deep water.
Consequently, a tsunami provides the best modern analogy for understanding how large-scale cross beds such as those in
the Coconino Sandstone could form.
Gobal Flood?
We can thus imagine how the Flood would deposit the Coconino Sandstone (and its equivalents), which covers an area of
200,000 square miles (518,000 square kilometres) averages 315 feet (96 metres) thick, and contains a volume of sand
conservatively estimated at 10,000 cubic miles (41,700 cubic kilometres). But where could such an enormous quantity of
sand come from? Cross beds within the Coconino dip consistently toward the south, indicating that the sand came from the
north. However, along its northern occurrence, the Coconino rests directly on the Hermit Formation, which consists of
siltstone and shale and so would not have been an ample source of sand of the type now found in the Coconino Sandstone.
Consequently, this enormous volume of sand would have to have been transported a considerable distance, perhaps at
least 200 or 300 miles (320 or 480 kilometres). At the current velocities envisaged sand could be transported that distance in
a matter of a few days!Thus the evidence within the Coconino Sandstone does not support the evolutionary geologists
interpretation of slow and gradual deposition of sand in a desert environment with dunes being climbed by wandering four-
footed vertebrates. On the contrary, a careful examination of the evidence, backed up by experiments and observations of
processes operating today indicates catastrophic deposition of the sand by deep fast-moving water in a matter of days,
totally consistent with conditions envisaged during the Flood.
PLATE TECTONICS
A Catastrophic Breakup
A Scientific Look at Catastrophic Plate Tectonics
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling on March 20, 2007
When you look at a globe, have you ever thought that the earth looks cracked? Or, maybe the continents have reminded
you of a giant jigsaw puzzle, with the coastal lines of South America and Africa seeming to fit together almost perfectly.
But what did this “puzzle” of land masses look like in the past? Was the earth one big continent long ago? What caused the
continents to move to their present locations? How did the global Flood impact the continents?Global investigations of the
earth’s crust reveal that it has been divided by geologic processes into a mosaic of rigid blocks called “plates.” Observations
indicate that these plates have moved large distances relative to one another in the past, and that they are still moving very
slowly today. The word “tectonics” has to do with earth movements; so the study of the movements and interactions among
these plates is called “plate tectonics.” Because almost all the plate motions responsible for the earth’s current configuration
occurred in the past, plate tectonics is an interpretation or model of what geologists envisage happened to these plates
through earth’s history (Figure 1).As hot mantle rock vaporizes
huge volumes of ocean water, a linear column of supersonic
steam jets shoot into the atmosphere. This moisture
condenses in the atmosphere and then falls back to the earth
as intense global rain.Slow-and-Gradual or Catastrophic?Most
geologists believe that the movement of the earth’s plates has
been slow and gradual over eons of time. If today’s measured
rates of plate drift—about 0.5–6 in (2–15 cm) per year—are
extrapolated into the past, it would require about 100 million
years for the Atlantic Ocean to form. This rate of drift is
consistent with the estimated 4.8 mi3 (20 km3) of magma that
currently rises each year to create new oceanic crust.1On the
other hand, many observations are incompatible with the idea
of slow-and-gradual plate tectonics. Drilling into the
magnetized rock of the mid-ocean ridges shows that a matching “zebra-striped” pattern of the surface rocks does not exist
at depth, as Figure 2 implies.2 Instead, magnetic polarity changes rapidly and erratically down the drill-holes. This is
contrary to what would be expected with slow-and-gradual formation of the new oceanic crust accompanied by slow
spreading rates. But it is just what is expected with extremely rapid formation of new oceanic crust and rapid magnetic
reversals during the Flood.
Figure 1: Cross-sectional view through the earth. The general principles of plate tectonics theory may be stated as follows:
deformation occurs at the edges of the plates by three types of horizontal motion—extension (rifting or moving apart),
transform faulting (horizontal shearing along a large fault line), and compression, mostly by subduction (one plate plunging
beneath another).
Figure 2: Magnetic reversals
Figure 2: The magnetic pattern on the left side of the
ridge matches the pattern on the right side of the
ridge. Note there are “bands” of normally magnetized
rock and “bands” of reversely magnetized rock. This
sequence of illustrations shows how the matching
pattern on each side of the mid-ocean ridge may have
formed. In the Catastrophic Plate Tectonic model, the
magnetic reversals would have occurred rapidly
during the Flood.
Figure 3: Model of catastrophic plate tectonics after
15 days
Figure 3: Snapshot of 3-D modeling solution after 15
days. The plot is an equal-area projection of a
spherical mantle surface 40 mi. (65
km) below the earth’s surface in
which color denotes absolute
temperature. Arrows denote
velocities in the plane of the cross-
section. The dark lines denote plate
boundaries where continental crust
is present or boundaries between
continent and ocean where both
exist on the same plate.
Figure 4: Model of catastrophic
plate tectonics after 25 days
SEDIMENTS
Sedimentation Experiments: Nature Finally Catches Up!
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling on August 1, 1997
Originally published in Journal of Creation 11, no 2 (August 1997): 125-126.
Abstract
Readers of Nature could
have read all about it more
than a decade ago in the
Creation Ex Nihilo Technical
Journal.Back in 1988 we
published in this journal the
English translation of a
significant paper1 that was
originally presented to the
French Academy of
Sciences in Paris on November 3, 1986 and then published in the Academy’s Proceedings.2 This was followed with our
publication of a subsequent paper3 in 1990 that had also been initially presented to the French Academy of Sciences in
Paris on February 8, 1988 and published in the Academy’s Proceedings.4The author on both occasions was Guy Berthault,
and his important experiments have demonstrated how multiple laminations form spontaneously during sedimentation of
heterogranular mixtures of sediments in air, in still water, and in running water (see Figure 1). In subsequent research
Berthault has teamed up with Professor Piérre Julien in the Engineering Research Center of the Civil Engineering
Department at Colorado State University, Fort Collins (USA). We published their results in 1994,5 after their research had
been published by the Geological Society of France.6 Their sedimentation
experiments are continuing.
Figure 1: Experimental multiple lamination of a heterogranular mixture of
sediments due to dry flow at a constant rate.
Figure 2: Fine layering was produced within hours at MT St Helens on June 12,
1980 by hurricane velocity surging flows from the crater of the volcano. The 25-foot
thick (7.6 m), June 12 deposit is exposed in the middle of the cliff. It is overlain by
the massive, but thinner, March 19,1982 mudflow deposit, and is underlain by the
air-fall debris from the last hours of the May 18, 1980, nine-hour eruption.
The significance of this research has been repeatedly pointed out by creationist
geologists. On June 12, 1980 a 25 foot (7.6 m) thick stratified pyroclastic layer
accumulated within a few hours below the Mt St Helens volcano (Washington, USA)
as a result of pyroclastic flow deposits amassed from ground-hugging, fluidised,
turbulent slurries of volcanic debris which moved at high velocities off the flank of
the volcano when an eruption plume collapsed (see Figure 2).7 Close examination
of this layer revealed that it consisted of thin laminae of fine and coarse pumice
ash, usually alternating, and sometimes cross-bedded. That such a laminated
deposit could form catastrophically has been confirmed by Berthault’s
sedimentation experiments and applied to a creationist understanding of the Flood-
deposition of thinly laminated shale strata of the Grand Canyon
sequence.8 Berthault’s experimental work and its implications have also been
featured on videos.9,10Now Nature has finally caught up! That is, the weekly
international science journal Nature, arguably the world’s
leading scientific publication, has just published and
commented upon the results of experiments similar to those
performed by Berthault,11,12 thus finally acknowledging what a
creationist researcher has been demonstrating for more than
ten years. However, not surprisingly, Berthault’s work is neither
mentioned nor referenced in the Nature articles.And what did
the Nature authors discover? Makse et al. found that mixtures
of grains of different sizes spontaneously segregate in the
absence of external perturbations; that is, when such a mixture
is simply poured onto a pile, the large grains are more likely to
be found near the base, while the small grains are more likely
near the top.13 Furthermore, when a granular mixture is
poured between two vertical plates, the mixture spontaneously
stratifies into alternating layers of small and large grains
whenever the large grains have a larger angle of repose than the small grains. Application—the stratification is related to the
occurrence of avalanches.Fineberg agrees.14 Both the stratification and segregation of a mixture of two types of grains can
be observed to occur spontaneously as the mixture is poured into a narrow box, the mixture flowing as the slope of the
‘sandpile’ formed steepens. When the angle of repose of the larger grains is greater than that of the smaller grains, the flow
causes spontaneous stratification of the medium to occur, and alternating layers composed of large and small particles are
formed, with the smaller and ‘smoother’ (lower angle of repose) grains found below the larger and ‘rougher’ grains (there
was a beautiful colour photo in Nature). Even within the layers, size segregation of the grains occurs, with the smaller grains
tending to be nearer the top of the pile.We are naturally heartened by this ‘high-profile’ confirmation of Berthault’s
experimental results, but readers of Naturecould have read all about it more than a decade ago in the Creation Ex Nihilo
Technical Journal. However, what this also confirms is that creation scientists do undertake original research, in this case,
research on sedimentation that is applicable to the catastrophic processes of deposition during the Flood, contrary to the
establishment’s uniformitarian (slow-and-gradual) interpretation of the formation of such sedimentary strata. And
furthermore, creation scientists not only do original research applicable to Flood geology (even if Nature doesn’t recognise
it), but the type of research they do is valid and good enough to be published in peer-reviewed secular scientific journals.
Abstract
Keywords: regional metamorphism, grade
zones, garnets, compositional zoning,
sedimentary precursors This paper was
originally published in the Proceedings of
the Third International Conference on
Creationism, pp. 485–496 (1994), and is
reproduced here with the permission of
theCreation Science Fellowship of
Pittsburgh (www.csfpittsburgh.org).
The “classical” model for regional metamorphic zones presupposes elevated temperatures and pressures due to deep burial
and deformation/tectonic forces over large areas over millions of years—an apparent insurmountable hurdle for the
creationist framework. One diagnostic metamorphic mineral is garnet, and variations in its composition have long been
studied as an indicator of metamorphic grade conditions. Such compositional variations that have been detected between
and within grains in the same rock strata are usually explained in terms of cationic fractionation with changing temperature
during specific continuous reactions involving elemental distribution patterns in the rock matrix around the crystallizing
garnet. Garnet compositions are also said to correlate with their metamorphic grade. However, contrary evidence has been
ignored. Compositional patterns preserved in garnets have been shown to be a reflection of compositional zoning in the
original precursor minerals and sediments. Compositional variations between and within garnet grains in schists that are
typical metapelites at Koongarra in the Northern Territory, Australia, support this minority viewpoint. Both homogeneous and
compositionally zoned garnets, even together in the same hand specimen, display a range of compositions that would
normally reflect widely different metamorphic grade and temperature conditions during their supposed growth. Thus the
majority viewpoint cannot explain the formation of these garnets. It has also been demonstrated that the solid-solid
transformation from a sedimentary chlorite precursor to garnet needs only low to moderate temperatures, while
compositional patterns only reflect original depositional features in sedimentary environments. Thus catastrophic
sedimentation, deep burial and rapid deformation/tectonics with accompanying low to moderate temperatures and pressures
during, for example, a global Flood and its aftermath have potential as a model for explaining the “classical” zones of
progressive regional metamorphism.
Introduction
Of the two styles of metamorphism, contact and regional, the latter is most often used to argue against the young-earth
creation-Flood model. It is usually envisaged that sedimentary strata over areas of hundreds of square kilometers were
subjected to elevated temperatures and pressures due to deep burial and deformation/tectonic forces over millions of years.
The resultant mineralogical and textural transformations are said to be due to mineral reactions in the original sediments
under the prevailing temperature-pressure conditions.Often, mapping of metamorphic terrains has outlined zones of strata
containing mineral assemblages that are believed to be diagnostic and confined to each zone respectively. It is assumed
that these mineral assemblages reflect the metamorphic transformation conditions specific to each zone, so that by
traversing across these metamorphic zones higher metamorphic grades (due to former higher temperature-pressure
conditions) are progressively encountered. Amongst the metamorphic mineral assemblages diagnostic of each zone are
certain minerals whose presence in the rocks is indicative of each zone, and these are called index minerals. Garnet is one
of these key index minerals. Across a metamorphic terrain, the line along which garnet first appears in rocks of similar
composition is called the garnet isograd (“same metamorphic grade”) and represents one boundary of the garnet zone. With
increasing metamorphic grade and in other zones, garnet continues to be an important constituent of the mineral
assemblages.
Garnet Compositions
Variation in garnet compositions, particularly their MnO content, was for a long time used as an estimator of regional
metamorphic grade. Goldschmidt1 first noted an apparent systematic decrease in MnO content with increase in
metamorphic grade, a relationship which he attributed to the incorporation of the major part of the rock MnO in the earliest
formed garnet. Miyashiro2 and Engel and Engel3 also followed this line of thought, Miyashiro suggesting that the larger
Mn2+ ions were readily incorporated in the garnet structure at the lower pressures, whereas at higher pressures smaller
Fe2+ and Mg2+ were preferentially favored. Thus it was proposed that a decrease in garnet MnO indicated an increase in
grade of regional metamorphism. Lambert4 produced corresponding evidence for a decrease in garnet CaO with increasing
metamorphic grade. Sturt5 demonstrated in somewhat pragmatic fashion what appeared to be a general inverse
relationship between (MnO + CaO) content of garnet and overall grade of metamorphism, a scheme which was taken up and
reinforced by Nandi.6Not all investigators, however, agreed with this line of thinking. Kretz7 demonstrated the possible
influence of coexisting minerals on the composition of another given mineral. Variation in garnet composition was seen to
depend not only on pressure-temperature variation but also to changes in the compositions of the different components
within its matrix as these responded to changing metamorphic grade. Albee,8 like Kretz and Frost,9 examined elemental
distribution coefficients in garnet-biotite pairs as possible grade indicators, but concluded that results were complex and
equivocal, and suggested that metamorphic equilibrium was frequently not attained. Similarly, Evans10suggested caution in
the interpretation of increasing garnet MgO as indicating increasingly higher pressures of metamorphism. He pointed out
that the volume behavior of Mg-Fe exchange relations between garnet and other common silicates indicates that, for given
bulk compositions, the Mg-Fe ratios in garnet will decrease with pressure.With the advent of the electron probe
microanalyzer, it became possible to detect compositional variations even within mineral grains including garnet, where
often it was found that traversing from cores to rims of grains, the MnO and CaO contents decreased with a concomitant
increase in FeO and MgO.11 Hollister12 concluded that this zoning arose by partitioning of MnO in accordance with the
Rayleigh fractionation model between garnet and its matrix as the former grew. Perhaps more importantly he drew attention
to the preservation of such zones that remained unaffected by diffusion, and hence unequilibrated, throughout the later
stages of the metamorphism that was presumed to have induced their growth. Concurrently, Atherton and
Edmunds13 suggested that the zoning patterns reflected changing garnet-matrix equilibrium conditions during growth and/or
polyphase metamorphism, but that, once formed, garnet and its zones behaved as closed systems unaffected by changes in
conditions at the periphery of the growing grain.Through his own work, and that of Chinner14 and
Hutton,15 Atherton16 drew attention to the presence of garnets of quite different compositions in rocks of similar grade, and
sometimes in virtual juxtaposition. His conclusion was that the MnO content, and indeed the whole divalent cation
component, of garnet was substantially a reflection of host rock composition and that any simple tie between garnet
composition and metamorphic grade was unlikely. Subsequently Atherton17 suggested that zoning and progressive
changes in garnet compositions were due to changes in distribution coefficients of the divalent cations with increase in
grade, and considered that “anomalies in the sequence (were) explicable in terms of variations in the compositions of the
host rock.”Müller and Schneider18 found that the MnO content of garnet reflected not only metamorphic grade and
chemistry of the host rocks, but also their oxygen fugacity. They rejected Hollister’s Rayleigh fractionation model and
concluded that decrease in Mn, and concomitant increase in Fe, in garnet with increasing grade stemmed from a
progressive reduction in oxygen fugacity. Hsu,19 in his investigation of phase relations in the Al-Mn-Fe-Si-O-H system, had
found that the stability of the almandine end-member is strongly dependent on oxygen fugacity, and is favored by
assemblages characterized by high activity of divalent Fe. In contrast, the activity of divalent Mn is less influenced by higher
oxygen fugacity. Thus Müller and Schneider20 concluded that the observed decrease in Mn in garnet with increasing
metamorphic grade is due to the buffering capacity of graphite present near nucleating garnets. With increasing grade the
graphite buffer increasingly stabilizes minerals dependent on low oxygen fugacity, that is, almandine is increasingly formed
instead of spessartine. Müller and Schneider also noted that some of their garnets were not zoned, but exhibited
inhomogeneities distributed in irregular domains throughout the garnet grains.Miyashiro and Shido,21 in a substantially
theoretical treatment, concluded that the principal factor controlling successive garnet compositions is the amount and
composition of the garnet already crystallized, since the matrix will be correspondingly depleted in the oxides present in the
earlier-formed garnet. Also using a theoretical approach, Anderson and Buckley22 showed that, for “reasonable diffusion
coefficients and boundary conditions,” observed zoning profiles in garnets could be explained quite adequately by diffusion
principles: that given original homogeneities in the parent rock, the interplay of diffusion phenomena could explain variation
of zoning profiles in separate grains of an individual mineral species in domains as small as that of a hand specimen.Tracy,
Robinson, and Thompson23 noted that garnets from metamorphosed pelitic assemblages show, in different metamorphic
zones,element distribution patterns that are complex functions of rock bulk composition, specific continuous reactions in
which garnet is involved, P-T history of the rock, homogeneous diffusion rates with garnet, and possibly also the availability
of metamorphic fluids at the various stages of garnet development.
They applied preliminary calibrations of garnet-biotite and garnet-cordierite Fe-Mg exchange reactions and several Fe-Mg-
Mn continuous mineral reactions to the results of very detailed studies of zoned garnets in order to evaluate changing P-T
conditions during prograde and retrograde metamorphism in central Massachusetts (USA).Stanton,24,25,26,27 in his studies
of Broken Hill (New South Wales, Australia) banded iron formations, suggested that the garnets represented in
situ transformation of somewhat manganiferous chamositic septachlorite, and that any zoning reflected the original oolitic
structure of the sedimentary chamosite. In a further study, Stanton and Williams28concluded that, because compositional
differences occur on a fine (1–2 mm) scale in garnets within a simple one-component matrix (quartz), garnet compositions
must faithfully reflect original compositional variations within the chemical sediments, and not represent variations in
metamorphic grade.McAteer29 demonstrated the presence in a garnet-mica schist of two compositionally and texturally
distinct garnet types, which she attributed to a sequence of mineral reactions that proceeded with changing thermal history
of the rock. Of the two types, one was coarse-grained and zoned (MnO and CaO decreasing towards grain margins), while
the other was fine-grained and essentially uniform in composition. Attainment of chemical equilibrium between all garnets
and their rock matrix, but maintenance of disequilibrium within large garnets, appears to have been assumed.In a review of
research on compositional zoning in metamorphic minerals, Tracy30 ignored Stanton’s demonstration that the compositional
zoning in garnets can only be explained in some metamorphic rocks as faithful reflections of original compositional
variations within the precursor minerals and sediments, and not as a function of variations in metamorphic grade or cationic
supply during crystal growth. Instead, Tracy summarized the various models already proposed—cationic fractionation
particularly of Mn (resulting in variations in the supply of cations) with changing temperatures during progressive
metamorphism, and reaction partitioning of cations which depends upon the exact mineralogical composition of the reservoir
or matrix surrounding any one garnet grain, especially relative proportions of matrix minerals that are in direct reaction
relation with a garnet grain. These models both correlate changes in garnet composition with increasing metamorphic grade,
relying on mineral reactions and diffusion of cations to explain compositional zoning trends, which it is envisaged change as
mineral reactions and temperatures change.This is still the consensus viewpoint. Loomis,31 Spear,32 and Spear, Kohn,
Florence, and Menard,33 for example, insist that metamorphic garnets undergo a form of fractional crystallization which
involves fractionation of material into the interior of a crystallizing garnet grain with consequent change in the effective bulk
composition, the zoning profile preserved in the garnet being a function of the total amount of material that has fractionated.
Furthermore, Spear insists that because intracrystalline diffusion is so slow at these conditions, the interior of the garnet is
effectively isolated from chemical equilibrium with the matrix. Spear then points to the work of Yardley34 to insist that with
increasing temperatures intracrystalline diffusion within garnet grains becomes more rapid until eventually all chemical
zoning is erased. Indeed, Yardley claimed to have found that at the temperatures of staurolite and sillimanite grade
metamorphism internal diffusion of cations within garnet grains is sufficient to eliminate the zoning that developed during
earlier growth.Yardley also rightly pointed out that the fractionation models for garnet zoning assume that that diffusion is
negligible at lower metamorphic grades. That there is negligible cationic diffusion in garnet at lower grades is amply
demonstrated in the garnets described by Olympic and Anderson,35 whose pattern of chemical zoning coincided with
textural (optical) zones, clearly representing distinct presumed growth stages. Nevertheless, even where textural (optical)
zones are not evident, there may still be chemical zoning, as found by Tuccillo, Essene, and van der Pluijm.36Indeed,
confusing the picture somewhat, Tuccillo, Essene, and van der Pluijm found that the chemical zoning in their garnets under
study, though from a high-grade metamorphic terrain, was not only preserved but was the reverse in terms of cations to that
normally expected, and this they attributed to a diffusional retrograde effect.However, the work of Stanton and
Williams,37 who found marked compositional changes from one garnet to the next on a scale of 1–2 mm in finely bedded
banded iron formations in the high-grade metamorphic terrain at Broken Hill (New South Wales, Australia), has been
ignored. They found thatin view of the minuteness of the domains involved it appears evident that compositional variation
cannot be attributed to variations in metamorphic pressures, temperatures or oxygen fugacities. Neither can they be
attributed to variation in garnet-matrix partition functions, as most of the garnets occur in one simple matrix—quartz.
They therefore concluded that
in spite of the high (sillimanite) grade of the relevant metamorphism, any equilibration of garnet compositions, and hence
any associated inter-grain metamorphic diffusion, has been restricted to a scale of less than 1 mm; that garnet compositions
here reflect original rock compositions on an ultra-fine scale, and have no connotations concerning metamorphic grade; that,
hence, the garnets must arrive from a single precursor material, earlier suggested to be a manganiferous chamositic
septachlorite; and that the between-bed variation: within-bed uniformity of garnet composition reflects an original pattern of
chemical sedimentation—a pattern preserved with the utmost delicacy through a period of approximately 1800 × 106 years
and a metamorphic episode of sillimanite grade.38
These findings are clearly at odds with the claims of other investigators, yet Stanton39,40 has amassed more evidence to
substantiate his earlier work. To test these competing claims, therefore, a suitable area of metamorphic terrain with schists
containing garnet porphyblasts was chosen for study.
The Koongarra Area
The Koongarra area is 250 km east of Darwin (Northern Territory, Australia) at latitude 12°52′S and longitude 132°50′E. The
regional geology has been described in detail by Needham and Stuart-Smith41 and by Needham,42,43while
Snelling44 describes the local Koongarra area geology.The Archean basement to this metamorphic terrain consists of
domes of granitoids and granitic gneisses (the Nanambu Complex), the nearest outcrop being 5 km to the north. Some of
the lowermost overlying Lower Proterozoic metasediments were accreted to these domes during amphibolite grade regional
metamorphism (estimated to represent conditions of 5–8 kb and 550–630 °C) at 1800–1870 Ma. Multiple isoclinal recumbent
folding accompanied metamorphism. The Lower Proterozoic Cahill Formation flanking the Nanambu Complex has been
divided into two members. The lower member is dominated by a thick basal dolomite and passes transitionally upwards into
the psammitic upper member, which is largely feldspathic schist and quartzite. The uranium mineralization at Koongarra is
associated with graphitic horizons within chloritized quartz-mica (±feldspar ±garnet) schists overlying the basal dolomite in
the lower member.Owing to the isoclinal recumbent folding of metasedimentary units of the Cahill Formation, the typical rock
sequence encountered at Koongarra is probably a tectono-stratigraphy (from youngest to oldest):
—muscovite-biotite-quartz-feldspar schist (at least 180 m thick)
—garnet-muscovite-biotite-quartz schist (90–100 m thick)
—sulfide-rich graphite-mica-quartz schist (±garnet) (about 25 m thick)
—distinctive graphite-quartz-chlorite schist marker unit (5–8 m thick)
—quartz-chlorite schist (±illite, garnet, sillimanite, muscovite) (50 m thick)—contains the mineralized zone
Polyphase deformation accompanied metamorphism of the original sediments that were probably dolomite, shales, and
siltstones. Johnston45 identified a D2 event as responsible for the dominant S2 foliation of the schist sequence, which dips at
55° to the south-east at Koongarra.
Superimposed on the primary prograde metamorphic mineral assemblages is a distinct and extensive primary alteration
halo associated with the uranium mineralization at Koongarra. This alteration extends for up to 1.5 km from the ore in a
direction perpendicular to the disposition of the host quartz-chlorite schist unit, because the mineralization is essentially
stratabound. The outer zone of the alteration halo is most extensively developed in the semi-pelitic schists and is manifested
by the pseudomorphous replacement of biotite by chlorite, rutile, and quartz, and feldspar by sericite. Metamorphic
muscovite, garnet, tourmaline, magnetite, pyrite, and apatite are preserved. In the inner alteration zone, less than 50 m from
ore, the metamorphic rock fabric is disrupted, and quartz is replaced by pervasive chlorite and phengitic mica, and garnet by
chlorite. Relict metamorphic phases, mainly muscovitic mica, preserve the S 2foliation. Coarse chlorite after biotite may also
be preserved.
Koongarra Garnets
Garnets are fairly common in the garnet-muscovite-biotite-
quartz schist unit at Koongarra, being usually fresh and
present in large quantities, often grouped, within various
macroscopic layers. Within the inner alteration halo and the
quartz-chlorite schist hosting the mineralization most of the
garnets have largely been pseudomorphously replaced by
chlorite. Occasionally garnet remnants remain within the
pseudomorphous chlorite knots, or the common boxwork
textures within these pseudomorphous chlorite knots
confirm that the chlorite is pseudomorphously replacing
garnets.The garnets are always porphyroblastic, and
sometimes idioblastic, indicative of pre-kinematic growth.
They may be up to 2 cm in diameter, but most are typically
about 0.5 cm across. Often, the garnets also show some
degree of rolling and sygmoidal traces of inclusions. These
features are usually regarded as evidence for syn-kinematic
growth.46 In a few of these cases, rolling is minimal and
inclusion traces pass out uninterrupted into the surrounding
schist. The schistosity is often draped around these garnet
porphryblasts and sometimes the latter are slightly
flattened. Thus the last stages of garnet growth occurred
during the final stages of the D2 deformation of the prograde
metamorphic layering S1, that is, during the development of
the predominant S2 schistosity. This, in turn, implies that
garnet development and growth took place before and
during the deformation of the earlier S1 schistosity, that is,
pre- and syn-kinematic to the S2schistosity and
D2 deformation.
Fig. 1. Plot of (CaO + MnO) versus (FeO + MgO) variations in all analyzed Koongarra garnets, after the style of
Nandi.47 His line of best fit for his data is shown, plus his boundaries between garnet compositions of each metamorphic
zone. The line of best fit through the Koongarra data is shown, as are the sample/garnet numbers of all the homogeneous
garnets. The analytical data are from Snelling.48Thirteen garnet-containing samples were chosen from three of the schist
units: the ore-hosting quartz-chlorite schist (three samples), the sulfide-rich graphite-mica-quartz schist (five samples), and
the garnet-muscovite-biotite-quartz schist (five samples). These 13 samples contained a total of 33 garnets that were all
analyzed using an electron probe microanalyzer. Composite point analyses were made where garnets were of uniform
composition, while traverses revealed compositional zoning when present. All results are listed in Snelling.49All the garnets
are essentially almandine, the Fe 2+ end-member, with varying amounts of spessartine (Mn2+), pyrope (Mg2+) and
grossularite (Ca2+) structural units/end-members substituting in the crystal lattices. Tucker50 reported an analysis of a
Koongarra Fe-rich garnet with an Fe203 content of 6.22%, implying that the substitution of the andradite (Fe3+) end-member
may be quite substantial. The compositional variations in Fe, Mn, Ca, and Mg both between and within the analyzed garnets
were plotted in ternary diagrams, and from these it was determined that two principal substitutions have occurred—Mn for
Fe and Mg for Ca, though the latter is very minor compared to the former. Nevertheless, these Koongarra garnets revealed
the general inverse relationship between (CaO + MnO) and (FeO + MgO), which can be seen clearly in Fig. 1.
Of the 33 garnets analyzed, 22 had homogeneous compositions and only 11 were compositionally zoned. In the three
samples from the ore-hosting quartz-chlorite schist unit, five garnets were analyzed and all were compositionally
homogeneous, whereas in the overlying sulfide-rich graphite-mica-quartz schist unit, the five selected samples contained 16
garnets, analyses of which revealed that 11 were compositionally homogeneous and the other five were compositionally
zoned. Furthermore, four of the ten samples from the two garnet-bearing schist units overlying the ore-hosting quartz-
chlorite schist contain both compositionally homogeneous and zoned garnets in a ratio of six zoned to eight homogeneous,
without any textural evidence to distinguish between the two. The other samples in these schist units either had all
compositionally homogeneous garnets or all compositionally zoned garnets.
Fig. 2. A line profile across a zoned garnet grain in sample 173 from the garnet-muscovite-biotite-quartz schist unit at
Koongarra, showing the variations in FeO, CaO, MgO, and MnO. Data from Snelling.51
Fig. 3. Plan view of a compositionally zoned garnet grain in sample 101 from the sulfide-rich graphite-mica-quartz schist unit
at Koongarra showing the FeO, MgO, MnO, and CaO contents at each analyzed point. Compositional contours have been
drawn in for FeO and MnO. The data are from Snelling.52
Traverses of point analyses across the compositionally zoned garnets enabled the compositional zoning to be quantified.
The most pronounced zoning is with respect to MnO, with cores generally having higher MnO relative to rims, and as FeO
substitutes for MnO, FeO follows an inverse trend (figs. 2 and 3). Zonation with respect to CaO and MgO is not pronounced,
but generally CaO follows the MnO trend and MgO follows FeO. This is understandable in terms of the ionic radii for the ions
involved.53 Fig. 4 shows the geochemical trends of all the analyzed zoned garnets from cores to rims, the strong
compositional differences following the same inverse relationship between (CaO + MnO) and (FeO + MgO) as the
compositionally homogeneous garnets.
Discussion
Garnets analyzed in the Koongarra schists are typical of garnets from metapelites, the compositional trends between and
within garnet grains being almost identical to those obtained from garnets in metapelites in metamorphic terrains in other
parts of the world.54 The (CaO + MnO) versus (FeO + MgO) plot in Fig. 1 has marked on it the line of best fit and
compositional subdivisions based on the typical zones of progressive regional metamorphic grade as determined by
Nandi.55 The Koongarra data are distributed along their own line of best fit and straddle the garnet, kyanite, and sillimanite
zones of Nandi’s data.Nandi’s contention was that (CaO + MnO) content of garnets decreased with increasing metamorphic
grade, as originally proposed by Sturt56but challenged by Bahnemann.57 Bahnemann studied garnet compositions in
granulite facies gneisses of the Messina district in the Limpopo Folded Belt of Northern Transvaal and found compositional
variations that were comparable to those found by Nandi, but which scattered across the metamorphic zones of Nandi’s
diagram. However, Bahnemann was able to show, from earlier work on the same rocks58,59and by using Currie’s cordierite-
garnet geothermometer,60 that whatever the precise temperature-pressure conditions may have been during the formation
of the garnets, they were high and uniform over much of the Messina district. Thus Bahnemann concluded that the
(CaO + MnO) versus (FeO + MgO) trends on the plot reflected host rock chemistry, and that metamorphic isograds cannot
be inferred from the position of points on such a line. Bahnemann nevertheless noted that his line of best fit differed slightly
from that of Nandi and suggested that his own line may be characteristic for the garnets from the area he had studied.
Fig. 4. Plot of (CaO + MnO) versus (FeO + MgO)
variations in all analyzed zoned garnets at
Koongarra after the style of Nandi.61 Again, his line
of best fit for his data is shown, plus his boundaries
between garnet compositions of each metamorphic
zone. Core to rim compositions are plotted with lines
linking them between their intermediate
compositions. Sample/garnet numbers are shown.
The data are from Snelling.62The (CaO + MnO)
versus (FeO + MgO) plots of the garnets at
Koongarra (Figs. 1 and 4) also define a line of best
fit that differs from that of Nandi. The Koongarra
schists contain some graphite, which could be an
additional factor in the growth of the zoned garnets,
the iron-rich rims presumably being produced by
graphite buffering as the temperature of
metamorphism increased. However, in four of the
thirteen samples there are both homogeneous and
compositionally zoned garnets side-by-side.
Furthermore, in one instance (sample 173) there is a
compositionally zoned garnet with a core that has
almost three times the (CaO + MnO) content of its
rim, yet the latter’s composition is very similar to the
two other adjoining homogeneous garnet grains. If
the presence of graphite buffering the metamorphic
reactions was needed to produce the zoned garnet,
then why the adjoining homogeneous garnets? A far
more logical explanation is that the zonation and
compositional variations are due to chemical variations in the original precursor minerals and sedimentary rocks, as
suggested by Stanton.63,64When Nandi produced his original plot, he used compositional data of 84 samples of garnets
belonging to different grades of regionally metamorphosed pelitic rocks that he compiled from six papers in the then current
literature. One of these, Sturt,65 drew on some of the same data, which comes from metamorphic terrains such as the
Stavanger area of Norway, the Gosaisyo-Takanuki area of Japan, the Adirondacks of the USA, and the Moine and
Dalradian of Scotland. When garnet porpyroblasts of quite different compositions from the different metamorphic terrains
were plotted on a (CaO + MnO) versus (FeO + MgO) diagram Nandi found that they grouped along a line of best fit in
subdivisions that reflected the different metamorphic grade zones from which they came—garnet, kyanite, and sillimanite
(see Figs. 1 and 4). Nandi showed virtually no overlap in the compositions of garnets from different grades at the boundaries
he drew across his line of best fit, yet on Sturt’s similar plot with garnet data from the same and other metamorphic terrains,
there was considerable overlap of compositions between garnets from the different metamorphic grades. Furthermore,
those garnets that Sturt recorded as coming from garnet grade metapelites almost exclusively plotted in Nandi’s kyanite
grade grouping, so the picture is far from being clear-cut as Nandi originally reported it. In other words, these data do not
show that garnet compositions systematically change with increasing metamorphic grade.As Bahnemann found in the
Limpopo Folded Belt, where garnets from a number of different granulite facies host-rocks showed a wide range of
composition yet reflected the same general pressure-temperature conditions of metamorphism, the data here from the
Koongarra schists show widely divergent garnet compositions, even within individual grains, yet the schists are typical
metapelites of a classical garnet zone within an amphibolite grade metamorphic terrain. The presence of garnet in these
schists without either kyanite and/or sillimanite confirms that these schists fall within the garnet zone, although kyanite has
been observed with staurolite in equivalent Cahill Formation schists to the south.66 Nevertheless, it is inconceivable that
there would be any appreciable variation in metamorphic temperature-pressure conditions over the approximate 370 m of
strike length and 90 m of stratigraphic range from which the studied samples came. Indeed, even in the stratigraphically
lowermost ore-hosting quartz-chlorite schist unit, the five compositionally homogeneous garnets in the three samples at that
stratigraphic level almost spanned the complete compositional range in Fig. 1, from extremely high (CaO + MnO) content in
the supposedly lower temperature end of the garnet zone to a lower (CaO + MnO) and high (FeO + MgO) content at the
supposedly high temperature end of the kyanite zone.Yet if any of these schist units at Koongarra should have been at a
higher prograde metamorphic temperature, it would have been this quartz-chlorite schist unit, because it is stratigraphically
closer to the Nanambu Complex basement towards which the metamorphic grade increased, causing some of the
metasediments closest to it to be accreted to it. Similarly, one of the samples from the sulfide-rich graphite-mica-quartz
schist unit (sample 101) has in it a garnet whose core could be regarded as being of garnet zone composition, while its rim
is supposedly indicative of the sillimanite zone.These numerous “anomalies” must indicate that garnet compositions are
substantially a reflection of compositional domains within the precursor sediments and/or minerals, and not metamorphic
grade. Stanton67,68 has shown that diffusion during regional metamorphism has been restricted to relatively minute
distances (<1 mm) and that there is no clear, direct evidence of prograde metamorphic mineral reactions, so that
metamorphic equilibrium does not appear to have been attained through even very small domains. Even though the majority
of researchers maintain that compositional zoning in garnets has been due to mineral reactions and cationic fractionation,
and that at higher grades the compositional zoning is homogenized by diffusion, Stanton and Williams69 have clearly shown
at Broken Hill that at the highest grades of metamorphism the compositional zoning in garnets is neither homogenized nor
the result of either mineral reactions or cationic fractionation, but an accurate preservation of compositional zoning in the
original precursor oolites in the precursor sediment. Nevertheless, while their conclusion is not questioned, their timescale
is, because it strains credulity to suppose that the original pattern of chemical sedimentation could have been preserved with
the “utmost delicacy” through a presumed period of 1.8 billion years.What is equally amazing is the discovery by
Stanton70 of distinctly hydrous “quartz” in well-bedded quartz-muscovite-biotite-almandine-spinel rocks also in the Broken
Hill metamorphic terrain. He comments that it seems “remarkable” that this silica should still retain such a notably hydrous
nature after 1.8 billion years that included relatively high-grade (that is, high temperature-pressure) metamorphism! Not only
does this discovery confirm that metamorphic quartz has been produced by dehydration and transformation in situ of
precursor silica gel and/or chert, but that the temperatures, pressures and timescales normally postulated are not
necessarily required.Stanton71 maintains that it has long been recognized that particular clays and zeolites derive in many
instances from specific precursors. Likewise, it is self-evident and unavoidable that many metamorphosed bedded oxides
(including quartz), together with carbonates and authigenic silicates, such as the feldspars, have derived from
sedimentary/diagenitic precursors, and the establishment thereby of this precursor derivation for at least some regional
metamorphic minerals is a principle, not an hypothesis. What Stanton then proceeds to show is how this principle applies to
the broader spectrum of metamorphic silicates, including almandine garnet.He points to his earlier evidence72,73 that
almandine has derived directly from a chamositic chlorite containing very finely dispersed chemical SiO2, and suggests that
dehydration and incorporation of this silica into the chlorite structure induces in situ transformation to the garnet structure.
Furthermore, instability induced by Mn, and perhaps small quantities of Ca, in the structure may predispose the chlorite to
such transformation. Any silica in excess of the requirements of this process aggregates into small rounded particles within
the garnet grain—the quartz “inclusions” that are almost a characteristic feature of the garnets of metapelites, including the
garnets at Koongarra. Stanton then supports his contention with electron microprobe analyses of several hundred chlorites,
from metamorphosed stratiform sulfide deposits in Canada and Australia, and of almandine garnets immediately associated
with the chlorites. These analyses plot side-by-side on ternary diagrams, graphically showing the compositional similarities
of the chlorites in these original chemical sediments to the garnets in the same rock that have been produced by
metamorphism. This strongly suggests that the process was one of a solid-solid transformation, with excess silica producing
quartz “inclusions.” As Stanton insists, why should these inclusions be exclusively quartz if these garnets had grown from
mineral reactions within the rock matrix, because the latter contains abundant muscovite, biotite, and other minerals in
addition to quartz, minerals that should also have been “included” in the growing garnet grains?Stanton and
Williams74 have conclusively demonstrated that the compositional zones within individual garnet porphyroblasts reflect
compositional zoning in precursor sedimentary mineral grains. Thus, if primary (depositional) compositional features have
led to a mimicking of metamorphic grade,75,76 then it has been shown77,78,79 that the classical zones of regional
metamorphic mineral assemblages may instead reflect facies of clay and clay-chlorite mineral sedimentation, rather than
variations in pressure-temperature conditions in subsequent metamorphism. Stanton80goes on to say that if regional
metamorphic silicates do develop principally by transformation and grain growth, the problem of the elusive metamorphic
reaction in the natural milieu is resolved. There is no destabilizing of large chemical domains leading to extensive diffusion,
no widespread reaction tending to new equilibria among minerals. Traditionally it has been supposed that as metamorphism
progressed each rock unit passed through each successive grade, but the common lack of evidence that “high-grade” zones
have passed through all the mineral assemblages of the “lower-grade” zones can now be accounted for. The real
metamorphic grade indicators are then not the hypothetical intermineral reactions usually postulated, but the relevant
precursor transformations, which may be solid-solid or in some cases gel-solid. Stanton concludes that it would be going too
far to maintain that there was no such thing as a regional metamorphic mineral reaction, or that regional metamorphic
equilibrium was never attained, but the role of metamorphic reactions in generating the bulk of regional metamorphic mineral
matter is “probably, quite contrary to present belief, almost vanishingly small.”The other key factor in elucidating regional
metamorphic grades, zones, and mineral compositions besides precursor mineral/sediment compositions would be the
temperatures of precursor transformations, rather than the temperatures of presumed “classical” metamorphic mineral
reactions. It is thus highly significant that dehydration and incorporation of silica into the chlorite structure induces in
situ transformation to garnet at only low to moderate temperatures and pressures that are conceivable over short time-
scales during catastrophic sedimentation, burial, and tectonic activities. Indeed, the realization that the “classical” zones of
progressive regional metamorphism are potentially only a reflection of variations in original sedimentation, as can be
demonstrated in continental shelf depositional facies today, provides creationists with a potential scientifically satisfying
explanation of regional metamorphism within their time framework, which includes catastrophic sedimentation, deep burial
and rapid deformation/tectonics with accompanying low to moderate temperatures and pressures during, for example, the
global Flood and its aftermath.81
Conclusions
Garnets in the amphibolite grade schists at Koongarra show wide compositional variations both within and between grains,
even at the thin section scale, a pattern which is not consistent with the current consensus on the formation of metamorphic
garnets. Rather than elevated temperatures and pressures being required, along with fractionational crystallization,
elemental partitioning, and garnet-matrix reaction partitioning, the evidence at Koongarra and in other metamorphic terrains
is consistent with solid-solid transformation at moderate temperatures of precursor sedimentary chlorite, complete with
compositional variations due to precursor oolites, into garnet such that the compositional variations in the precursor chlorite
are preserved without redistribution via diffusion. These compositional variations in garnets contradict the “classical” view
that particular compositions represent different metamorphic grade zones, since at Koongarra the compositional variations
even in single garnets span wide ranges of presumed metamorphic temperatures and grades. Thus the “classical”
explanation for progressive regional metamorphism, different grade zones being imposed on original sedimentary strata
over hundreds of square kilometers due to elevated temperatures and pressures resulting from deep burial and
deformation/tectonic forces over millions of years, has to be seriously questioned. A feasible alternative is that these zones
represent patterns of original precursor sedimentation, such as we see on continental shelves today. Creationists may thus
be able to explain regional metamorphism within their time framework on the basis of catastrophic sedimentation, deep
burial and rapid deformation/tectonics, with accompanying low to moderate temperatures and pressures, during, for
example, the global Flood and its aftermath.
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It may come as a surprise to some, but not all rock layers were laid down during Flood. In fact, the evidence indicates that
more geologic layers may have been formed during Creation than during the Flood.
What Do We See in the Geologic Record?
When most people visit Grand Canyon in northern Arizona, their eyes are riveted on the spectacular walls, which display
about 4,000 feet (1.2 km) of flat-lying sedimentary rock layers (limestones, sandstones, and shales) (Figure 1).2Filled with
the buried remains of plants and animals, these layers must have been deposited during the Flood.
Figure2.Australia
Almost two-thirds of Australia consists of thick sedimentary layers
below the fossil-bearing sedimentary layers deposited by the
Flood.3 In two of these basins, the Hamersley and Bangemall
Basins, the total cumulative thickness of the sequence of
successive sedimentary and volcanic layers is approximately a
staggering 115,500 feet (almost 22 miles)!4
In Australia, as well as elsewhere around the globe, geologists
have found even thicker sedimentary layers below the fossil-
bearing layers deposited by the Flood. Indeed, almost two-thirds of
the Australian continent consists of such rocks (Figure 2), sitting on
a basement of metamorphic rocks and granites.5
These thick, fossil-free sediment layers have been preserved in
depositional basins (places where volcanic eruptions and moving
sediment deposited layers in sequences, one basin on top of the previous one). In just two locations in Western Australia,
the Hamersley and Bangemall Basins (Figure 2), the total cumulative thickness of the layers is approximately a staggering
115,500 feet (almost 22 miles [35 km])!6
So Why Would the Designer Lay Down Thirty Miles of Sediment in a Day?
There is at least one good reason we know of. These rock layers contain enormous resources of metals that man has used
to carry out the God-given dominion mandate. In Australia’s Hamersley Basin, and similar sedimentary basins elsewhere,
are special layers called banded iron formations that contain countless billions of tons of iron ore from which we make steel,
one of the basic components of our world’s infrastructure. Much of the world’s gold comes from sediment layers in South
Africa’s Witwatersrand Basin. And we also find copper deposits, which even our pre-Flood ancestors must have utilized to
craft utensils and tools.
Doesn’t the Order of Fossils in the Rock Record Favor Long Ages?
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling on September 9, 2010; last featured February 25, 2014
Many of us go about our daily lives, going to work and back home, without realizing we live atop massive graveyards, often
covering hundreds of square miles. Cincinnati—the region where the Creation Museum was built—is just one such locale.
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A dark and stormy night, a series of violent deaths, a mass grave later discovered by construction workers who unearthed
piles of dismembered body parts—it sounds like the makings of a gruesome detective story.
These circumstances are repeated in various locales all over our planet, but we are oblivious to the mysteries that lie under
our feet, waiting to be explored and explained.
The Creation Museum, for example, was built on top of one of the most wellstocked and uniquely well-preserved “fossil
graveyards” on the planet. Fossil hunters from around the world travel here specifically to hunt for trilobites and other
strange sea creatures found in these rock layers.
It’s easy to find these fossils in the exposed rocks along the banks of the Ohio River and its tributaries. But they are best
found in road cuts along the interstate highways and along many side roads.
Several puzzles immediately strike even the most casual observer, begging for explanation.
Piles of Marine Body Parts—500 Miles from the Ocean
One puzzle is that these layers contain untold trillions and trillions of fossilized body parts, all belonging to creatures that
once lived at the bottom of a shallow sea. What catastrophe ripped apart all these animals, and how did they end up in the
center of the continent, 500 miles (800 km) from the nearest ocean?
Before we consider the possible answer, let’s look at the facts. These fossils came from a bizarre menagerie of mostly
extinct creatures that once filled the shallow seas. These were invertebrates (creatures without backbones). Scientists give
them strange-sounding names, but many of them look very much like modern creatures, such as lampshells (brachiopods)
(Figure 1), lace corals (bryozoans), and sea lilies (crinoids), along with trilobites.1
When you pick up broken limestone slabs on the roadside, you usually don’t see whole creatures.2 Often all that is visible of
the coral-like bryozoans are stacks of broken “stems” (Figure 2). Similarly, often all that is preserved of the sea lilies
(crinoids) are the columnals (“stems”) and small discs from these broken-up columnals (Figure 3). The trilobites, too, are
mostly found only as fragments.
How did this jumble of sea creatures end up in Cincinnati, far from the sea?
Broken and Buried Sea Life
Some sort of catastrophe destroyed the shallow sea communities where trillions and trillions of trilobites and other strange
sea creatures once lived. Their fossilized body parts are now found jumbled together in exposed rocks all along Cincinnati’s
highways (as shown in the author’s photos below).
Abstract
A stromatolite is typically defined as a
laminated and lithified structure that is the
result of microbial activity over the course of
time. Fossil stromatolites are relatively
abundant; however, modern living
stromatolites are rare. Two well-studied
examples of living stromatolites include
those found in the Exuma Cays of the
Bahamas and Shark Bay in Australia. Depending on dominant chemical reactions by bacteria and environmental conditions,
accretion and lithification of the stromatolite occurs at intervals. Each layer or lamina of a stromatolite represents a former
surface mat of bacteria. As long as cyanobacteria (or other phototrophs) colonize the top surface of the stromatolite, growth
is likely to continue. Understanding microbial composition and mechanisms of living stromatolites is crucial to determining
the biogenicity of fossil stromatolites. Although there is a paucity of fossilized bacteria in fossil stromatolites, their structural
features closely resemble those of living stromatolites. A set of criteria from the study of living and fossil stromatolites has
been developed to aid determination of the biogenicity of fossil stromatolites. It was concluded that there is now sufficient
evidence for the biogenicity of many stromatolites, even as early as 3.5 Ga, so these need to be understood within the
creationists framework of earth history. Discernment of genuine stromatolites in the geologic record may help determine
boundaries between Creation, pre-flood and flood strata. In addition, understanding how various living stromatolites form in
different environments provides insight into the pre-Flood environments in which fossil stromatolites grew.
Keywords: Living stromatolites, fossil stromatolites, biogenicity, cyanobacteria, endolithic, heterotrophic, lithification,
lamination, calcium carbonate, accretion, precipitation, mineralization, organomineralization, Exuma Cays, Hamelin Pool,
extrapolymeric substance (EPS), sulfate reducing bacteria (SRB), Precambrian strata, Flood strata, microfossils, Creation,
pre-Flood era
This paper was originally published in the Proceedings of the Seventh International Conference on Creationism (2013) and
is reproduced here with the permission of the Creation Science Fellowship of Pittsburgh.
Introduction
Stromatolite definitions, although varied, typically refer to an organosedimentary laminated and lithified structure produced
by sediment trapping, binding, and/or precipitation as a result of the growth and metabolic activity of microorganisms,
principally cyanobacteria and heterotrophic bacteria over the course of time (Chivas et al. 1990; Reid et al. 1995; Visscher et
al. 1998; Papineau et al., 2005). The word stromatolite comes from the Greek stromat meaning to spread out
and lithos meaning stone (Riding, 2000). Fossil stromatolites, though sparse in the geologic record, are nevertheless
relatively abundant in terms of the number of occurrences (Semikhatov & Raaben 1996; Grotzinger & Knoll 1999; Schopf,
2004); however, modern living stromatolites are rare.
Although by definition stromatolites are biogenic, some scientists have questioned whether these structures are exclusively
biogenic and might instead be the result of abiogenic mechanisms (Lowe 1994; Hladil, 2005; Brasier et al., 2006).
Understanding microbial composition and mechanisms of living stromatolites is crucial to determining the biogenicity of fossil
stromatolites. Fossil stromatolites have been found mainly in Archean (3500–2500 Ma) and Proterozoic (2500–541 Ma)
strata, with comparatively minuscule numbers in Phanerozoic (541 Ma–Present) strata (Gradstein et al., 2012). Geologists
and paleontologists have questioned the biogenicity of the oldest Archean stromatolites due to the difficulties of identifying
signatures of life, such as microfossils, in rock layers that are dated to 3.5 billion years old (Awramik & Grey, 2005). For
scientists believing in an earth that is 4.5 billion years old, a biogenic origin for early Archean stromatolites is problematic
because it leaves only a scant one billion years for the evolution of cyanobacteria and their major metabolic process of
photosynthesis from non-life (Awramik & Grey, 2005).
The biogenicity of fossil stromatolites is also problematic for creationists. Stromatolites are believed to form over extended
periods of time from hundreds to thousands of years. Archean strata likely represent rocks (Snelling, 2009), so how can
stromatolites that evidently take long periods of time to form be present in rocks that were created in less than a week?
Proterozoic strata likely represent late Creation and pre-Flood era rocks (Snelling, 2009) and would have formed over a
period of approximately 1650 years. The biogenicity of Proterozoic stromatolites is typically not questioned even within the
secular scientific community (Hofmann et al. 1999). Structurally there seems to be little difference between Archean and
Proterozoic stromatolites (Awarmik & Grey, 2005), leading to the potential conclusion that if Proterozoic stromatolites are
biogenic, then so are Archean stromatolites.
Fossil stromatolites in Phanerozoic strata are also potentially problematic for creationists because those strata are believed
to have formed very rapidly during the global flood (Snelling, 2009). Again, how could structures that appear to take long
periods of time to grow form over the course of a year? Could the nature and pattern of occurrence of fossil stromatolites be
useful in determining the pre-Flood/Flood/post-Flood boundaries?
Studying living stromatolites is absolutely essential to determining the biogenicity of fossil stromatolites and understanding
how such structures form and grow. The microstructure of living stromatolites closely resembles that of fossil stromatolites
(although there is a paucity of fossilized bacteria in fossil stromatolites) (Reid et al. 1995; Visscher et al. 1998). Thus living
stromatolites are potentially a good model for developing criteria to determine the biogenicity of fossil stromatolites.
The purpose of this study is to develop a set of criteria from the study of living and genuine fossil stromatolites to aid
determination of the biogenicity of other fossil stromatolites. Discernment of genuine stromatolites in the geologic record
may help determine boundaries between creation , pre-flood and flood strata. In addition, understanding how various living
stromatolites form in different environments provides insights into the pre-Flood environments in which fossil stromatolites
grew.
Survey of Living Stromatolites
Stromatolites consist of “guilds” of bacteria that perform different functions, such that the end metabolic products produced
by one bacterial guild provide the starting metabolic products for a different guild (Visscher & Stolz, 2005; Dupraz et al.,
2009). This distribution of functions benefits the microbial community and effectively builds the stromatolite. Microbial
composition varies, but typically consists of three major bacterial types—cyanobacteria, heterotrophic bacteria, and
endolithic cyanobacteria (Baumgartner et al., 2009; Papineau et al., 2005; Goh et al., 2009; Allen et al., 2009).
Cyanobacteria are active in photosynthesis and play a major role in the overall growth of the stromatolite. Metabolic
activities of heterotrophic bacteria create conditions (in conjunction with environmental factors) that result in the precipitation
and mineralization of calcium carbonate leading to lithification of the stromatolite. Endolithic cyanobacteria bore through
sand grains of the stromatolite welding together grains and stabilizing the structure of the stromatolite.
Lithification (the process of sediments becoming solid rock) results
directly from microbial activity performed mainly by heterotrophic
bacteria (in conjunction with environmental factors) (Dupraz & Visscher,
2005). However, cyanobacteria are responsible for accretion (addition)
of sediment through the trapping and binding of sand grains (Dupraz &
Visscher, 2005). Microbial activity consists of a complex set of chemical
reactions that result in both the dissolution and precipitation of calcium
carbonate (Dupraz & Visscher, 2005). When metabolic processes result
in net precipitation/mineralization of calcium carbonate, lithification
occurs (Dupraz & Visscher, 2005).
Chlorobi 0.9
Deferribacteres 0.8
Figure 5. Proposed sequence of Hamelin Pool stromatolite formation (A=pioneer community to D=climax community).
Despite the lack of localization of particular bacterial populations in Hamelin Pool stromatolites, many similarities to
Bahamian stromatolites can be found. A is similar in microbial composition to a Type 1 mat in Bahamian stromatolites due to
the abundance of cyanobacteria on the top surface. B and C are similar to a Type 2 mat in Bahamian stromatolites due to
micritic crust formation. D is similar to a Type 3 mat in Bahamian stromatolites due to the formation of aragonite infilled
boreholes. Reprinted from Figure 16 A–D, Jahnert & Collins, 2012.
The dominant bacterial species discovered in these
stromatolites belong to the following groups:
Proteobacteria, Planctomycetes, Actinobacteria
(heterotrophic bacteria), and Bacteroidetes (Papineau et
al., 2005; Goh et al., 2009; Allen et al., 2009). Most of the
groups are the same as those found in Bahamian
stromatolites, although individual species may differ
between them (Table 1 and Figure 6). For
example, Microcoleus sp. is the dominant cyanobacteria in
contrast to Schizothrix and/or novel cyanobacteria that are
dominant in Bahamian stromatolites (Allen et al., 2009).
One of the main microbial contributors appears to be
anoxygenic phototrophs like those belonging to the
Proteobacteria group (Papineau et al., 2005). Anoxygenic
photosynthesis does not result in the production of oxygen
and is likely beneficial for the metabolism of heterotrophic
bacteria that also play a major role in the formation of
stromatolites. Halophilic archaea are also found in
Hamelin Pool stromatolites and comprise about 10% of
the microbial community (Goh et al., 2009). As with
Bahamian stromatolites, Hamelin Pool stromatolites
harbor many novel species of bacteria. For example, a
novel halophilic archaea, Halococcus hamelinensis, has
been identified (Goh et al., 2006).
Figure 6. Microbial diversity of Hamelin Pool stromatolites. A (pustular mat) and B (smooth mat) represent different
morphological types of stromatolites. Reprinted from Figure 3, Allen et al., 2009.
Role of Microbial Metabolic
Activity in the Formation of
Stromatolites
Metabolic activities will be
discussed in relation to Bahamian
stromatolites as extensive
research has been published in
this area. Microbial composition
of both Bahamian and Hamelin
Pool stromatolites is similar, thus
metabolic activities of the
microorganisms are also likely
similar even if the organization of
the microorganisms is different.
Figure 9. Cross-section of Bahamian stromatolite showing laminations. C brackets a Type 1 mat on the surface of the
stromatolite. M with arrow points to micritic crust associated with a former surface Type 2 mat. F brackets a former surface
Type 3 mat with endolithic bacteria. Reprinted from Figure 2 A and B, Visscher & Stolz, 2005.
Figure 10. Cross-section of Hamelin Pool stromatolite showing laminations. Reprinted from Plate 52, Figure 1a, Reid et al.,
2003.
Over time this cycling of surface mats gives the stromatolite a laminated appearance, with each lamina representing a
former surface mat (this is also true for Hamelin Pool stromatolites) (Figures 9 and 10). Both Bahamian and Hamelin Pool
stromatolites are believed to grow less than a millimeter a year (Jahnert & Collins, 2012). If the periodicity of the lamination
could be determined then age estimates could be made for living stromatolites. Although the oldest living stromatolites are
not considered to be more than a few thousand years old (Macintyre et al. 1996; Chivas et al. 1990), the periodicity of
lamina formation is highly variable. This also lessens the possibility of determining the time period necessary to form
ancient/fossil stromatolites. However, it seems possible that stromatolite formation could occur rapidly under certain
environmental conditions that may lend support to their rapid formation during
creation and the flood.
Photosynthesis and aerobic respiration are the dominant metabolic activities of
Type 1 mats (Visscher & Stolz, 2005). Cyanobacteria perform photosynthesis
and actively fix carbon dioxide using light energy with the end result being the
formation of various sugars. These sugars (polysaccharides) are secreted in
copious amounts from the bacteria and form the extrapolymeric substance (EPS)
(Riding, 2000). EPS composes the mucilaginous sheaths surrounding individual
cyanobacteria. EPS is mucus-like or “sticky” and aids in bacterial attachment to
substrates, protection, and nutrient absorption (Riding, 2000). EPS also traps
calcium ions and sediments. Photosynthesis and concomitant geochemical
reactions in the EPS lead to net calcium carbonate precipitation (Visscher & Stolz, 2005) (Figure 11).
Figure 11. Chemical reactions resulting in calcium carbonate precipitation in Type 1 mats. Reprinted from Reaction 1,
Visscher et al., 1998.
Heterotrophic bacteria perform aerobic respiration and metabolize some of the EPS formed by the cyanobacteria (Visscher
& Stolz 2005). Metabolism of EPS and concomitant geochemical reactions cause dissolution of the calcium carbonate
(Visscher & Stolz, 2005) (Figure 12). There is little to no net calcium carbonate precipitation in Type 1 mats due to the
balance of calcium carbonate precipitation and dissolution (Visscher & Stolz, 2005).
Figure 16. Classification of different types of biologically relevant mineralization. Organomineralization sensu stricto is
represented in the first column on the left (not discussed in this paper) and organomineralization sensu lato is represented in
the middle column and column on the right. Reprinted and adapted from Figure 2, Dupraz et al., 2009.
Biologically induced mineralization is the direct result of microbial metabolism changing the forms and balance of organic
carbon (i.e. CO2 and carbohydrates) leading to conditions that result in calcium carbonate precipitation (Dupraz et al. 2009)
(Figure 16), and was discussed in the previous section. Biologically influenced mineralization consists of environmental
factors that are extrinsic to the microorganisms (Dupraz et al. 2009) (Figure 17). The so-called “alkalinity engine” determines
carbonate alkalinity and is a major factor determining calcium carbonate precipitation. It is influenced by both intrinsic and
extrinsic factors (Dupraz et al. 2009) (Figure 17). Intrinsic factors come from the microorganisms themselves (see previous
section). Two major extrinsic factors are evaporation of water leading to the formation of evaporites and CO 2 degassing
(Dupraz et al. 2009) (Figure 17). Evaporites are salt deposits that can be composed of carbonate precipitates (Dupraz et al.
2009).
Figure 17. Effect of intrinsic and extrinsic factors on the alkalinity engine resulting in calcium carbonate precipitation and
mineralization of the organic matrix mainly composed of the extracellular polymeric substance (EPS). Reprinted from Figure
4, Dupraz et al., 2009.
CO2 degassing (removal) causes a shift that favors calcium carbonate precipitation (Dupraz et al. 2009).
Figure 19. Stromatolite-containing Archean geologic units, the check marks denoting occurrences of conical stromatolites
(after Schopf 2006).
In the Archean rock record, the problem of proving the biogenicity of such structures presents a greater challenge, due
chiefly to the paucity of exposed Archean sedimentary strata (found only in the Pilbara Craton of Western Australia and the
Barberton Greenstone Belt of South Africa and Swaziland) and the correspondingly small number of known occurrences of
stromatolites (48 thus far) and preserved microbial assemblages (Figure 19) (Schopf et al. 2007). Nevertheless, Archean
stromatolites are now established to have been more abundant and decidedly more diverse than was appreciated even a
few years ago—40 morphotypes in fourteen Archean rock units (Hofmann 2000; Schopf 2006). Virtually all such structures
that have been reported have also been studied in detail in Proterozoic stromatolites. Thus the interpretation of the
biogenicity of Archean forms, and the differentiation of such structures from abiotic look-alikes, is based on the same criteria
as those applied to stromatolites of documented biogenicity in the younger Precambrian (including analyses of their laminar
microstructure, morphogenesis, mineralogy, diagenetic alteration, and more—e.g., Buick et al. 1981; Walter 1983; Hofmann
2000). All 48 occurrences of Archean stromatolites are regarded by those who reported them as meeting the biology-
centered definition for stromatolites.
Others have also similarly studied living stromatolites in order to establish criteria for determining the biogenicity of fossil
stromatolites. Their rationale, like ours, is that the characteristics observed in living stromatolites would be expected to be
found in fossil stromatolites. In the geologic record there are of course non-stromatolitic rocks that contain the same
bacterial body microfossils as found in some fossil stromatolites, so that begs the question as to whether the bacterial body
microfossils always indicate a genetic connection between the bacteria that left the microfossils and the sedimentary and
stromatolite structures. So there will always be a measure of subjectivity in using any list of criteria. Nevertheless, the final
decision as to whether a fossil stromatolite is of biogenic origin will likely be determined on whether most of the identification
criteria have been satisfied. Certainly, the presence of bacterial body microfossils in a fossil stromatolite has been regarded
as logically desirable for it to be classed as of biogenic origin.
Known living stromatolites generally consist of carbonate sand-sized particles that have micritic laminae and crusts,
whereas Precambrian fossil stromatolites generally consist of only very fine-grained micrite (calcium carbonate mud crystals
<4 microns in diameter) (Riding 2000). While this difference could be used to question the biogenicity of the Precambrian
stromatolites, it should be remembered that this difference is reflected in a comparable difference between the composition
and constituents of modern and Precambrian sediments. Indeed, micritic textures are uncommon in most modern
environments (not just stromatolite environments), whereas micritic textures are common in most fossil sediments (not just
in stromatolites).
There have thus been numerous recent attempts to establish a set of criteria by which the biogenicity of fossil stromatolites
may be determined, and these are now supported by appropriate diagnostic techniques (Grotzinger & Knoll 1999; Altermann
2004, 2008; Schopf 2004, 2006; Awramik & Grey 2005; Schopf et al. 2007; Noffke 2009). Our study of living stromatolites,
and the work done by others to establish the biogenicity of various fossil stromatolites, has been used to assess and
compile the following set of criteria. Among the crucial criteria for a fossil stromatolite to be of biogenic origin it must:
Show a preferred orientation to the bedding of the sedimentary layer it is in;
Show evidence of having been formed penecontemporaneously and synchronously with the sediment in the bed in which it
is found, such as the layering within the fossil stromatolite consists of mineral grains that also constitute a major component
of the sediments in the host bed;
Be found in sedimentary rocks from the appropriate apparent depositional paleoenvironment, such as laminated limestones
composed of lime silts, and cherts characteristic of peritidal and evaporitic carbonate environments;
Be morphologically similar to living stromatolites in terms of the shape and geometry of its laminae having continuity across
other structures;
Have present within its laminae fossilized microbes with morphology (appropriate size and shape) consistent with microbes
found in modern counterparts;
Have associated microbial fossils that have the chemical composition of carbonaceous kerogen (and not graphite); and
Have associated microbial fossils that have a carbon isotopic signature which matches the modern organisms with that
morphology.
A systematic examination of fossil stromatolites applying these criteria to determine which are biogenic and which are not
(Snelling, in prep.) is beyond the space and scope of this study. For our present purpose, having determined the suitable
criteria to establish the biogenicity of fossil stromatolites, it will suffice to show that a sufficient number of Archean fossil
stromatolites, including some of the oldest recognized occurrences, have been reasonably established as of biogenic origin.
Those Archean fossil stromatolites of biogenic origin then are critical in understanding all fossil stromatolites of biogenic
origin in the creation-flood framework of earth history (see below).
Thundering Burial
by Dr. Andrew A. Snelling on June 1, 1998
Originally published in Creation 20, no 3 (June 1998): 38-41.
This fossil graveyard on the Lake Huron coastline of Michigan is thus just another example of the devastation resulting from
that catastrophic global Flood.
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In a sunny summer’s day in eastern Lower Michigan (USA), the placid waters of Lake Huron
gently lap against the picturesque coastline (Figure 1). By contrast, when storms rage across
that vast expanse of open waters, the locals can testify to large waves crashing violently on to
those same shores. Yet such storms and waves are minor compared to the scale of the
storms, waves, and resultant devastation that must have occurred during the global flood, as
seen today in a fossil graveyard exposed on this same coastline.
Figure 1: The Lake Huron coastline looking south-east at Partridge Point, near Alpena,
eastern Lower Michigan. The limestone shingles on the beach (foreground) contain fossils.
Driving north of Bay City along State Route 23, skirting the shores of Lake Huron, one could
easily miss the turnoff to Partridge Point just south of Alpena (Figure 2) if one didn’t know that
it was there and that Partridge Point had some geological significance.1 However, at
Partridge Point are outcrops of a fossil graveyard, one of many fossil deposits found around
the world that are significant as examples of the catastrophism during the Flood.
Partridge Point is a small peninsula of land which juts south-eastward into Lake Huron,
dividing the coastline between Thunder Bay to the north and Squaw Bay to the south (Figure
2).2 The shape and orientation of this peninsula is determined by the rock layers of which it is
composed, being roughly parallel to the strike of the strata (their elongation direction)—
Figures 2 and 3.
The outcrops of interest belong to the Thunder Bay
Limestone and are exposed along the shoreline.3 They
represent what geologists call the type section of this rock
formation—that is, the originally described outcrops of this
rock unit that show its features and contents across its
thickness, and that then serve as the representative or
objective standard against which separated parts of this
same rock unit elsewhere may be compared. The outcrops
are accessible along the beaches at the water’s edge, and
can be reached by crossing vacant land among the private
homes and from the unmaintained boat-ramp launch road
(Figure 3).
Figure 5: Looking south-east along the main beach at Partridge Point, the
type section for the Thunder Bay Limestone (see Figure 3). The limestone
shingles contain fossils and the outcrops are to the left, beneath the house
and trees.
The sequence of rock types in the outcrops making up the Thunder Bay
Limestone is shown diagrammatically in Figure 4. Of particular interest are
the light-coloured shaly beds and limestone full of fossilized corals and
shellfish.4,5 The remains include the skeletons of animals that once lived
attached to the rocky bottom of a shallow sea, such as colonial corals
(bunches of corals connected to one another like apartments), solitary
corals, bryozoans (‘lace corals’), crinoids (‘sea-lilies’), stromatoporoids
(extinct sea creatures of uncertain identification, possibly related to the sponges and
corals due to similarity of their limey skeletons), brachiopods (‘lamp shells,’ similar to
clams, but with a ‘foot’ for attaching themselves permanently to the sea bottom), and
blastoids (relatives of the crinoids and the sea urchins). There are also the fossilized
remains of more mobile sea creatures, such as conodonts (extinct animals whose
only remains are tiny jaw-like bones with serrations like teeth). A detailed description
of these rocks, with a complete list of their fossils, has been compiled.6
Figure 4: Idealized composite diagram depicting the type or reference section of the
rock types and layers making up the Thunder Bay Limestone along the Lake Huron
shoreline at Partridge Point. Most fossils found in the shingles of limestone along
the beaches have eroded from the fossiliferous limestone unit, and some of these
fossils are listed there.
Many of these fossils can be found in pieces of the hard limestone shingles along
the beaches (Figure 5). Some of the fossils are shown in Figures 6–8. Of particular
interest are the crinoid remains seen in Figure 6, the disks or columnals of the
crinoids’ stems or stalks which were once connected and stacked on top of one
another.7 After death, crinoids fall apart very
quickly, so it is common to find abundant
fossilized columnals from broken stalks scattered
and jumbled indiscriminately through limestones
such as this Thunder Bay Limestone.
However, here we also see, thrown together with
these crinoid columnals, pieces of ‘lace coral’
(bryozoans—Figure 6), brachiopod shells (Figure
7), and solitary corals (Figure 8). The limestone
that now entombs these remains cannot be
where these creatures once lived, because they
are not found here in their living positions. The
solitary coral, for example, is not seen here
attached to the sea bottom, with a distinct hard
surface visible in the rock mass, but was
completely enclosed in what originally was a soft
lime mud which only became rock
hard after burying the coral.
Originally published
in Creation 17, no 4 (September
1995): 38-40.
‘Instant petrified wood’—so ran
the heading to the announcement
in Popular Science, October
1992.
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‘Instant petrified wood’—so ran
the heading to the announcement
inPopular Science, October
1992.1 It’s also the reality of research conducted at the Advanced Ceramic Labs at the University of Washington in Seattle
(USA).
Researchers have also made wood-ceramic composites that are 20–120% harder than regular wood, but still look like wood.
Surprisingly simple, the process involves soaking wood in a solution containing silicon and aluminium compounds. The
solution fills the pores in the wood, which is then oven-cured at 44°C (112°F). According to the lab’s research director,
Daniel Dobbs, such experiments have impregnated the wood to depths of about 5 millimetres (0.2 inches). Furthermore,
deeper penetration under pressure and curing at higher temperature have yielded a rock-hard wood-ceramic composite that
has approached petrified wood.
Patent 'recipe' for petrification
However, priority for the discovery of a 'recipe' for petrification of wood must go to Hamilton Hicks of Greenwich, Connecticut
(USA), who on September 16, 1986 was issued with US Patent Number 4,612,050. 2 According to Hicks, his chemical
'cocktail' of sodium silicate (commonly known as 'water glass'), natural spring or volcanic mineral water having a high
content of calcium, magnesium, manganese, and other metal salts, and citric or malic acid is capable of rapidly petrifying
wood. But in case you want to try this 'recipe,' you need to know that for artificial petrification to occur there is some special
technique for mixing these components in the correct proportions to get an 'incipient' gel condition.
Hicks wrote:
'When applied to wood, the solution penetrates the wood. The mineral water and sodium silicate are relatively proportioned
so the solution is a liquid of stable viscosity and is acidified to the incipient jelling [gelling] condition to a degree causing
jelling [gelling] after penetrating the wood, but not prior thereto. That is to say, the solution can be stored and shipped, but
after application to the wood, jells [gels] in the wood. When its content is high enough, the penetrated wood acquires the
characteristics of petrified wood. The wood can no longer be made to burn even when exposed to moisture or high humidity,
for a prolonged period of time. The apparent petrification is obtained quickly by drying the wood. '3
The patent indicates that the amount of acid in the solution appears to have a critical effect on the production of the gel
phase within the cell structure of the wood, although evaporation also plays its part. Wood thoroughly impregnated, even if
necessary by repeated applications or submersions of the wood in the solution, after drying evidently has all the
characteristics of petrified wood, including its appearance.
Both Hicks and the researchers at the University of Washington lab have suggested potential uses for such 'instant' petrified
woods:
Fireproofing wooden structures such as houses and horse stables (the horses wouldn't be tempted to chew on the wood
either!).
Longer-wearing floors and furniture.
Greater strength wood for structural uses.
Insect, decay and salt water 'proofing' wood in buildings, etc.
Rapid natural petrification
The chemical components used to artificially petrify wood can be found in natural settings around volcanoes and within
sedimentary strata. Is it possible then that natural petrification can occur rapidly by these processes? Indeed!
Sigleo4reported silica deposition rates into blocks of wood in alkaline springs at Yellowstone National Park (USA) of between
0.1 and 4.0 mm/yr.
From Australia come some startling reports. Writing in The Australian Lapidary Magazine, Pigott 5 recounts his experiences
in southwestern Queensland:
'. . . from Mrs McMurray [of Blackall], I heard a story that rocked me and seemed to explode many ideas about the age of
petrified wood. Mrs McMurray has a piece of wood turned to stone which has clear axe marks on it. She says the tree this
piece came from grew on a farm her father had at Euthella, out of Roma, and was chopped down by him about 70 years
ago. It was partly buried until it was dug up again, petrified. Mac McMurray capped this story by saying a townsman had a
piece of petrified fence post with the drilled holes for wire with a piece of the wire attached.
'Petrified wood thousands of years old? I wonder is it so?'
Several months later Pearce6 added further to these amazing stories of woods rapidly petrified in the ground of 'outback'
Queensland:
'. . . Piggott writes of petrified wood showing axe marks and also of a petrified fence post.
'This sort of thing is, of course, quite common. The Hughenden district, N. Q. [North Queensland], has . . . Parkensonia trees
washed over near a station [ranch] homestead and covered with silt by a flood in 1918 [which] had the silt washed off by a
flood in 1950. Portions of the trunk had turned to stone of an attractive colour. However, much of the trunks and all the limbs
had totally disappeared.
'On Zara Station [Ranch], 30 miles [about 48 kilometres] from Hughenden, I was renewing a fence. Where it was dipped into
a hollow the bottom of the old posts had gone through black soil into shale. The Gidgee wood was still perfect in the black
soil. It then cut off as straight as if sawn, and the few inches of post in the shale was pure stone. Every axe mark was perfect
and the colour still the same as the day the post was cut . . . .
'I understand that down in the sandhill country below Boulia [south-western Queensland], where fences are often completely
covered by shifting sand, it's a common thing for the sand to shift off after a number of years, leaving stone posts standing
erect.'
From the other side of the world comes a report of the chapel of Santa Maria of Health (Santa Maria de Salute), built in 1630
in Venice, Italy, to celebrate the end of The Plague. Because Venice is built on watersaturated clay and sand, the chapel
was constructed on 180,000 wooden pilings to reinforce the foundations. Even though the chapel is a massive stone block
structure, it has remained firm since its construction. How have the wooden pilings lasted over 360 years? They have
petrified! The chapel now rests on 'stone' pilings! 7
Experimental verification
Of course, none of these reports should come as a surprise, since the processes of petrification of wood have been known
for years, plus the fact that the process can occur, and has occurred, rapidly. For example Scurfield and Segnit 8had
reported that the petrification of wood can be considered to take place in five stages:
1. Entry of silica in solution or as a colloid into the wood.
2. Penetration of silica into the cell walls of the wood's structure.
3. Progressive dissolving of the cell walls which are at the same time replaced by silica so that the wood's dimensional
stability is maintained.
4. Silica deposition within the voids within the cellular wall framework structure.
5. Final hardening (lithification) by Drying out.
Furthermore Oehler9 had previously shown that the silica minerals quartz and chalcedony critically important in the
petrification of wood, can be made, rapidly in the laboratory from silica gel. At 300°C (572°F) and 3 kilobars (about 3,000
atmospheres) pressure only 25 hours was required to crystallize quartz, whereas at only 165°C (329°F) and 3 kilobars
pressure the same degree of crystallization occurred in 170 hours (about seven days).
Similarly, Drum10 had partially silicified small branches by placing them in concentrated solutions of sodium metasilicate for
up to 24 hours, while Leo and Barghoorn11 had immersed fresh wood alternately in water and saturated ethyl silicate
solutions until the open spaces in the wood were filled with mineral material, all within several months to a year. Likewise, as
early as 1950 Merrill and Spencer12 had shown that the sorption of silica by wood fibres from solutions of sodium
metasilicate, sodium silicate and activated silica sols (a homogeneous suspension in water) at only 25°C (77°F) was as
much as 12.5 moles of silica per gram within 24 hours--the equivalent of partial silicification/petrification. As Sigleo
concluded,
'These observations indicate that silica nucleation and deposition can occur directly and rapidly on exposed cellulose [wood]
surfaces.'13
Conclusions
The evidence, both from scientists' laboratories and the natural laboratory, shows that under the right chemical conditions
wood can be rapidly petrified by silicification, even at normal temperatures and pressures. The process of petrification of
wood is now so well known and understood that scientists can rapidly make petrified wood in their laboratories at will.
Unfortunately, most people still think, and are led to believe, that fossilized wood buried in rock strata must have taken
thousands, if not millions, of years to petrify. Clearly, such thinking is erroneous, since it has been repeatedly demonstrated
that petrification of wood can, and does, occur rapidly. Thus the timeframe for the formation of the petrified wood within the
geological record is totally compatible with the creation time-scale of a recent creation and a subsequent devastating global
Flood.
[Top to bottom]
(a) the rhipidistian fish Eusthenopteron. (b) The skeleton of the labyrinthodont amphibian Ichthyostega. Both originals were
about one meter long. (After Carroll.3) Notice how completely are the fins and legs.
To confirm that this fish Eusthenopteron and amphibian Ichthyostega were not the transitional fossils (or ‘missing links’)
claimed to have been found recently, I went to the textbooks on vertebrate palaeontology. Colbert, 2for example, in 1969 also
used these fossils to illustrate the supposed transition from water to land. However, his accompanying diagram only
illustrated similarities between the jaws and skulls of these fossils, and ignored the all-important claimed transition from fins
to legs.
On the other hand, both Carroll3 in 1988 and Stanley4 in 1989 show drawings of the skeletal structures of the fins and legs
respectively of these two fossils, making comparisons in order to illustrate how these fossils might represent the transition
from the fish’s fin to the amphibian’s leg. Furthermore, in his text, Stanley says:
‘These fossils, many of which are assigned to the genus Ichthyostega, represent creatures that are strikingly intermediate in
form between lobe-finned fishes and amphibians: The lobe fin itself is formed of an array of bones resembling that found in
amphibians … These features alone strongly suggest that amphibians were derived from lobe-finned fishes, but additional
features make the derivation a certainty … Because of this intriguing combination of features, Ichthyostega, which was not
discovered until the present century, represents what is commonly termed a “missing link”’. 5
A pictorial diorama is then used by Stanley to reinforce this statement.
A palaeontologist’s admission
Stanley, who is on the staff of The Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, USA, cannot be aware of the statement made
earlier on this issue of ‘missing links’ by his colleague Dr Colin Patterson, Senior Palaeontologist at the British Museum
(Natural History) in London. In 1978 that museum published a book on evolution by Patterson.6 Designed to be a popular
book on the subject, it is still being sold in museums, even here in Australia. So it is still regarded as an authoritative
presentation on evolution, including the fossil record. Yet, even though fossils are mentioned in a number of places in the
book, nowhere does Patterson illustrate any ‘missing links’ between major types of organisms, such as between fish and
amphibians.
In 1979 American Luther Sunderland read Patterson’s book and noticed this rather obvious lack of even a single photograph
or drawing of a transitional fossil. So he wrote to Patterson asking why this omission, and in a letter dated 10 April 1979
Patterson replied in these words:
‘… I fully agree with your comments on the lack of direct illustration of evolutionary transitions in my book. If I knew of any,
fossil or living, I would certainly have included them. … Gould and the American Museum people are hard to contradict
when they say there are no transitional fossils … You say that I should at least “show a photo of the fossil from which each
type of organism was derived.” I will lay it on the line—there is not one such fossil for which one could make a watertight
argument.’7
Greenland fossil finds
With this background I scanned the recent literature to see if any relevant new fossils had been found recently which might
be the claimed ‘beautiful’ fossil record illustrating this fish to amphibians transition. Sure enough, in 1987 an expedition to
Stensiö Berg in East Greenland by British scientists from Cambridge University and Danish scientists supported by the
Greenland Geological Survey found very closely associated skulls of a new fossil, Acanthostega, at sites where fossil
remains of Ichthyostega were also found.8
Ear bones and breathing
The first account of this new fossil material 9 presented details of the skull and attempted to show that the middle-ear bone,
while related to that in other tetrapods, had a functional part to play not only in hearing but also in breathing, which would
make this bone similar to a bone in some fish that helps to pump in water, which is then expelled through the gill slits. 10 It
was also claimed that ‘The earliest tetrapods may
have retained a fish-like breathing mechanism.’11This
naturally evoked scientific correspondence from other
researchers,12, 13 with a response from the Cambridge
University palaeontologist.14
Fins and limbs
Next came a report from palaeontologist Clack and
her colleague Coates at Cambridge University on the
fossilized limb bones.15 They reported that the
forelimb of Acanthostega had eight digits and the
hindlimb of Ichthyostega had seven, quite unlike the
common pattern of five digits on the feet (or hands) of
many amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals. They
also described some resemblances of the forelimb
skeleton of Acanthostega to the pectoral fin skeleton
ofEusthenopteron, the similarities being viewed by the
researchers in the context of the evolution of the
tetrapod limb bones from the fin-bones of lobe-finned fishes (see Figure 2).
To account for this variation in digit numbers (from the general norm of five), Cooke 16 suggested that conceivably the
evolutionary process in the genetics of limb development in these ‘primitive’ amphibians was ‘not even well enough
controlled to assure constancy between different individuals within single species’. He thus concluded that the common five-
digit structure of tetrapod limb skeletons (the pentadactyl limb) must have become stabilized in a subsequent lineage, or
lineages, to produce the common ancestors of today’s classes of tetrapods. Such a statement is clearly based on the
assumption of macroevolution, and not on observational evidence of the bones in fins of fish changing into the limb bones of
these amphibians and then other tetrapods.
A ‘missing link’?
In yet another paper Coates and Clack 17 reported the discovery of what they regard as a fish-like gill (branchial) skeleton
in Acanthostega, with grooves that they claimed are identical to those found in modern fishes. Thus they concluded that
‘Acanthostega seems to have retained fish-like internal gills … for use in aquatic respiration’.18 This they claimed ‘blurs the
traditional distinction between tetrapods and fishes’ because it supposedly implies that the ‘earliest’ tetrapods were not fully
land-dwelling (terrestrial). They further claimed that Acanthostega resembled a gill-breathing lungfish and that its legs with
digits must have first evolved for use in water rather than for walking on land. 19 They didn’t say it outright, but the implication
is that they believe, as does the palaeontologist who confronted me with this example, that Acanthostega thus qualifies as a
‘missing link’ (transitional form).
No! A mosaic tetrapod
Figure 2.
[left to right]
(a) Pectoral fin skeleton ofEusthenopteron. (b) Restoration of the forelimb skeleton of Acanthostega. (c)Restoration of the
hindlimb skeleton of Ichthyostega.
(All are dorsal view, anterior edges to the left, and drawn at a comparative scale only.) (After Coates and Clack.14) Notice
that some of the Acanthostegalimb bones are remotely similar to theEusthenopteron fin bones, but the total limb is after the
overall bone patter of fellow amphibian Ichthyostega. Notice also the varying digit numbers.
At about the same time, Clack and Coates made the following comment at an international conference:
‘Acanthostega gunnari is an Upper Devonian tetrapod which, like its better known contemporary Ichthyostega, displays a
mosaic of fish- and tetrapod-like characters.’20
They also asked, rhetorically:
‘Was this animal secondarily aquatic, or do the fish-like characters indicate retention of the primitive condition? Were its
tetrapod-like characters … evolved among more terrestrial tetrapods, or were they originally developed for life in shallow,
swampy waters?’21
Clearly, in their minds, and the minds of their fellow evolutionary palaeontologists, this mosaic of fish- and tetrapod-like
characters, and the presumed mode of life, make Acanthostega a ‘missing link’, even though they describe it as a tetrapod,
that is, a four-legged animal. However, Acanthostega was a fully formed and fully functional four-legged amphibian, with four
legs and not four fins, in some respects not unlike amphibians such as salamanders and newts.
Mosaics don’t count
Their description of Acanthostega as a ‘mosaic’ is significant. Acanthostegais not the first fossil to be called a mosaic, a
creature that has characteristics common to two or more other types of creatures. For example, Australia’s platypus has milk
glands and fur that classify it as a mammal, but it has a leathery egg, echo-location ability, a duckbill, webbed feet, poison
spurs and other features that it shares in common with other animals, not only mammals.
LikeAcanthostega, Archaeopteryx has been regarded as an evolutionary intermediate (‘missing link’), but leading
evolutionists Gould and Eldredge state that
‘Smooth intermediates … are almost impossible to construct, even in thought experiments; there is certainly no evidence for
them in the fossil record (curious mosaics like Archaeopteryx do not count).’22
An amphibian nonetheless
Godfrey23 lists 41 characteristics that are unique to tetrapods. According to Ritchie, 24 who has inspected the actual
fossils, Acanthostega ‘fails the tetrapod test’ in eight out of these 41 characteristics, with two other characters not found
in Acanthostega and another five not known from the fossil material. Thus Acanthostega still has 26 out of these 41 tetrapod
characteristics. Ritchie also suggests that there are three other tetrapod characteristics present inAcanthostega not listed by
Godfrey, so if these are included, Acanthostega has 29 out of 44 tetrapod characteristics. A 45th character which could be
regarded as an unconventional tetrapod feature is the multi-digit, paddle-like limbs. On the other hand, Ritchie
lists Acanthostega as having only eight potential ‘fish-like’ or ‘primitive’ characters.
However, the fact remains that Acanthostega has been classified as an amphibian (tetrapod) with a mosaic of tetrapod- and
fish-like features. Nevertheless, leading evolutionists such as Gould and Eldredge regard mosaics as not qualifying as
‘missing links’. Interestingly, in his 1990 textbook Cowen 25 doesn’t mention Acanthostega, even though reports on its
claimed intermediate characteristics had appeared in the scientific literature from 1988 onwards.
Made up ‘stories’
So why do evolutionary palaeontologists and other scientists still persist in claiming that ‘missing links’ such
asAcanthostega have been found, when some of their eminent colleagues have pronounced these fossils as failing to
qualify? Again, Dr Colin Patterson’s comments are telling:
‘As a palaeontologist myself, I am much occupied with the philosophical problems of identifying ancestral forms in the fossil
record. … It is easy enough to make up stories of how one form gave rise to another, and to find reasons why the stages
should be favoured by natural selection. But such stories are not part of science, for there is no way of putting them to the
test.’26
Several months later in an interview, after having been given two creation science books to read, 27, 28 Patterson was asked
to elaborate, and in part of his response he said,
‘If you ask, “What is the evidence for continuity?” you would have to say, “There isn’t any in the fossils of animals and man.
The connection between them is in the mind.”’ 29
In other words, fossils such as Acanthostega are regarded by some evolutionary palaeontologists as ‘missing links’ not
because they are, but because they are believed to be. As Patterson says, it is ‘in the mind’, because ‘missing links’ are a
philosophical necessity—to somehow provide ‘proof’ for their evolutionary faith.
Moreover,
‘The systematic status and biological affinity of a fossil organism is far more difficult to establish than in the case of a living
form, and can never be established with any degree of certainty. To begin with, ninety-nine per cent of the biology of any
organism resides in its soft anatomy, which is inaccessible in a fossil.’30
In any case,
‘… anatomy and the fossil record cannot be relied upon for evolutionary lineages. Yet palaeontologists persist in doing just
this.’31
Furthermore,
‘Everybody knows fossils are fickle; bones will sing any song you want to hear.’ 32
Conclusion
The fossil record has so far revealed many types of fish, some of which have bones in their fin lobes, serving a useful
purpose as in the coelacanth (long believed to be an extinct ancestor of land animals, until it was found alive and well). The
fossil record has also revealed many types of amphibians, including Ichthyostega and Acanthostega, in which the limb
bones are firmly attached to the backbone and clearly designed for bearing the weight of the body in walking. Anything truly
‘in-between’ these crucial fish and amphibian characters is not only hard to conceive, but has never been found.
COAL
Click to enlarge
Some people have wondered how the vegetation during the pre-Flood day could produce so much coal, since today’s
vegetation would produce only 3% of known coal reserves. To find the answer, we must reexamine the assumptions behind
that estimate.First, it is often assumed that around 10 feet of peat is necessary to produce 1 foot of coal. But if you consider
the weight of peat and coal, or if you consider the energy content, then 10 feet of vegetation probably produced 5–10 feet of
coal.Second, it is mistakenly assumed that the pre-Flood day was much like today. That is not the case. It turns out that the
pre-Flood was very lush, producing nearly six times more vegetation than we see today.
Conclusion
It appears that lush vegetation might have covered up to 75 percent of the pre-Flood world, including the floating forests
fringing the land. The Flood waters rose from the oceans and swept over the land, catastrophically destroying and burying
all the vegetation in beds between other fossil-bearing sediments. The temperatures and pressures at these depths, aided
by the presence of water and clay, converted these beds into coal within months.
Thus the huge coal deposits of today’s world can easily be explained.11 The coal formed quickly in the year-long Flood only
about 4,300 years ago.
Figure 5. The stratigraphic sequence in the Newcastle Coal Measures (after Crapp
and Nolan10).
Click here for larger image.
The vast number of tree stumps and logs include many in an upright position as well
as those in horizontal positions (see Fig. 4). The horizontal logs are usually coalified
and crushed, whilst the vertical logs often have at their bases coalified bark with iron
carbonate replacement of the interior woody tissue. The upper trunks of the vertical
logs which protrude high into the tuffs are often silicified, the woody tissue being
replaced by chalcedony. The tuff around these logs contains coalified specks that
have the characteristics of resinite or coalified resin.
Historically, the logs and stumps have been regarded as overwhelming evidence of in
situ formation of the coal seams, but the following observational evidence argues
strongly against the trees being in actual growth position:
(a) Whilst many of the stumps and logs are in vertical positions, they rarely exhibit
evidence of branching or leaf structures and are commonly fractured at their ends.
They are therefore identical to the logs and stumps produced by the Mount St. Helens
explosion and deposited with ash in both Spirit Lake and Toutle Canyon.
(b) Even as far back as 1907, David12 argued that these trees had-been
rapidly buried by an ash fall, and in support of his argument pointed to the
presence of resinites in the associated tuff. Since some of the vertical trees he
referred to were up to 30 feet or 10 metres tall, their excellent state of
preservation indicates that the entire 10 metres of ash and sediment were
deposited quickly, that is, the inter-seam sediments between the Upper and
Lower Pilot Seams were rapidly and catastrophically deposited, a conclusion
acknowledged by Dresser111 by his discussion of the origin of these inter-
seam tuffs.
(c) The stumps and logs are found on the top of the coal seams and are not in
the coal. The root structures of the tree stumps rarely penetrate any depth into
the coal seams. David12 :293 claimed this was because the precursor trees,
which have been identified as Dadaxylon, a relative of the Norfolk, Island Pine,
could not grow healthily ‘if immersed in peat’. This is a factual statement which
does not assist the argument that the tree stumps are in situ.
Figure 9. The stratigraphic sequence in the Oakleigh coal mine near Rosewood
(after Cameron16).
Click here for larger image.
Thus the Walloon coal has much in common with the coal in the Upper and
Lower Pilot Seams, including the presence of volcanic ash in the inter-seam
sediments.
Cranfield et al.17 also indicate that fossil wood fragments are features of the
Walloon Coal Measures. Indeed, even small vertical logs have been observed
on top of some of the seams in the Oakleigh mine. Figure 10 illustrates one particular log that was discovered in the
tuffaceous sandstone above the topmost seam (see Fig. 9). Both the fragmented nature of the broken log, and the character
of the sediments in which it was found, confirm that it is a drift log, that is, it didn’t grow in situ but was deposited with the
sediments enclosing it. What is also significant about this log is that it has hard black coal on the outside, and low quality,
very woody brown coal and iron oxides on the inside. Many places still show the presence of tree rings (and splinters). The
presence of both black coal and brown coal in the one log, and also the very fine lining of black coal on either side of a clay-
filled fracture that penetrates across the inside of the log (see Fig. 10), quite clearly indicates that the coalification of the
wood in this log did not necessarily result from exposure to temperature and pressure over a long period of time. Both these
factors (temperature and pressure) would have reached equilibrium throughout such a thin log over any extended period of
time. The presence of high rank black coal only around the outside (and lining the fracture) indicates either,
(a) that the process of coalification was so rapid that there was insufficient time for coalification conditions to reach
equilibrium throughout the log, or
(b) that there was a difference in conditions between the outside and the inside of the log which resulted in coalification
advancing further around the circumference of the log,
(or both of these conditions).
A very significant implication of these observations is that if coalification resulted from the log being exposed to a rapid
heating event, then this would also imply that the sediments surrounding the log were not only rapidly heated, but they also
cooled rapidly: that is, they rapidly lost sufficient heat so as to drop below the temperature at which the inside of the log
would have also reached the same advanced stage of coalification as the log’s outer circumference. In other words, there
was rapid heat loss on a regional scale.
Volcanism and rapid coalification
Figure 10. A broken log found in tuffaceous sandstone above the topmost
coal seam at Oakleigh near Rosewood (see Fig. 9). (a) A general view of
two pieces of the log which consist mainly of woody brown coal.
See Figure 10(b).
The observations of a volcanic eruption at Mount St. Helens, the Toutle
River ash and mud flows which deposited conifer logs and roots in apparent
growth positions, and the Spirit Lake phenomenon which produced vertical
growth position conifer logs with or without roots in tuffaceous sediments
and conifer bark rich debris have been shown to be quite clearly related as
depositional models to the vertical pine tree logs with a pine bark and clay-
rich coal and jutting into overlying tuff layers at Swansea and Quarries
heads, the Awaba ‘fossil forest’ marker bed of similar pine logs but in chert
largely devoid of other vegetable matter, and the Oakleigh drift log
consisting of both black and brown coal that was discovered in tuffaceous sandstone above seams which are full of coalified
pine cuticles. This relationship highlights a point made by Dryden,20 and remade by Hayatsu et al.21 that ‘there had been
no incontrovertible evidence to support any theory of coalification.’ This has been stated here because the listed
observations strongly imply that not only can large quantities of carbon-rich sediments be accumulated rapidly in
catastrophic conditions, but that the same sediments can be coalified rapidly.
The Mount St. Helens volcanic eruption as a depositional model for coals appears particularly obvious from the widespread
occurrence of volcanic tuffs and associated clay minerals resulting from devitrification of tuffs in the coals and inter-seam
sediments of the Newcastle and Rosewood-Walloon coalfields. Where tuffs are not apparent, their previous existence is
often suspected because of the widespread distribution of clay minerals which potentially have been derived from ash
falls.11,17 Since depositional relationship between these coals and volcanism can thus be established by the fact that the
majority of the clays associated with these coals are common derivatives of volcanic ash, then similarly a relationship
between volcanism and rapid coalification of these seams can be established on the basis of laboratory experiments in
which it has been shown that such clays seem to act as catalysts for the rapid coalification of carbon-rich materials.
Furthermore, the non-relationship of peat to coal can thereby be demonstrated, since the present of large amounts of clay
throughout these coal seams disassociates them from being descendants of peat swamps, particularly cold environment
peat swamps, which are virtually devoid of clays.
Mechanisms for rapid coalification
Figure 10. (b) A closer view of one piece showing, from left to right,
tuffaceous sandstone still clinging to the log, bituminous (black) coal, and
the woody brown coal of the bulk of the log.
See Figure 10(c).
Karweil22 reported that he had produced artificial coal by rapidly applying
vibrating pressures to wood. Subsequently Hill23 reported that he had also
manufactured artificial coal through rapid application of intense heat. While
both these studies used simulated conditions that are applicable to
coalification in areas of tectonism and volcanism, such as the coal seams at
Newcastle and Oakleigh, recent work by Hayatsu et al.,21 is even more
applicable. In their study, Hayatsu and his colleagues at the Argonne
National Laboratory, Illinois, USA made simple coals by heating lignin to about 150°C in the presence of montmorillonite or
illite clays. Running that procedure for periods ranging from two weeks to nearly a year, they discovered that longer heating
times produced higher rank coals, and found that the clays appear to serve as catalysts that speed the coalification reaction,
since the lignin is fairly unreactive in their absence.
In summary, the relevant aspects of the work of Hayatsu et al.21 are:
(1) Softwood lignin heated with clay minerals (particularly montmorillonite at 150°C for two to eight months in the absence of
oxygen was readily transformed into insoluble materials resembling coals of
various ranks.
(2) Longer reaction times produced materials resembling vitrinites of higher
rank.
(3) Simple pyrolysis of lignin without clay at 350 to 400°C yielded only char
(fusinite?).
(4) Using kaolinite or illite, independently or mixed with montmorillonite,
produced similar results.
Figure 10. (c) A closer view of the other piece showing, in cross section, the
bituminous (black) coal on the log’s circumference and along a clay filled
fracture.
They concluded, therefore that natural clay minerals are important for coalification because they act as catalysts.
They also noticed that:
(a) in the presence of clay activated by acid, the reaction of lignin to form coaly materials was highly accelerated, even at
only 150°C (four weeks instead of two to four months!); and
(b) loss of catalytic action of clays occurred when the reaction was carried out in the presence of air.
Thus their overall conclusion was that coal macerals can be produced rapidly from biological source material by a clay-
catalyzed thermal reaction in periods of only two to four months (sometimes one month).
Tables 1 and 2 summarize the experiments conducted by Hayatsu et al.21 It should be noted from Table 1 that samples
AV1 and AV4 produced coal materials ranging from low rank over two months to high rank over eight months. By
comparison, sample AVOX was heated in the presence of air and produced no noticeable coal products after two months,
while sample PL3, which was a 400°C experiment over an hour, produced only char material. Note also the results of
experiments 2 and 3 in Table 2. When no acid was used the coalification time was two months, while acid-activated
coalification took only 28 days. Furthermore, temperatures lower than 150°C have so far not been tried in these
experiments.
Table 1. Summary of Artificial Coalification Reactions21
Table 2. Effect of Clay Mineral as Catalyst for Artificial Coalification of Softwood Lignin21