Yooperlites!

We spent a recent weekend in a lovely spot up in the UP. We've wanted to stop there for a while, but we've been told it is usually quite crowded and very buggy. We thought waiting until fall might give us a better chance and we were right - somehow we managed to snag the last campsite available at The Mouth of the Two Hearted River. 

It was gorgeous, and totally worth the hour-long drive on sandy washboard roads to get to the campground. The shore of Lake Superior was a quick walk from the campground and it did not disappoint.

The beach is a rockhound's dream. We found a ton of interesting rocks for Allen to tumble, including this one I dubbed "The Heart of Lake Superior."

I was surprised at just how many people were there looking for rocks. There were people everywhere with scoops and buckets finding treasures. We didn't do a whole lot of searching during the day - we couldn't find what we were after until after dark.

After a beautiful sunset and a nice walk away from the mouth of the river, we broke out the black lights, specifically blacklights with a 365 nm filter, and started searching. 

We were a little worried that the beach would be too picked over to find anything, but we had great luck. Allen and I managed to find sixteen syenite rocks rich with sodalite - a mineral that glows bright orange under blacklight. (They are also called Yooperlites, but that is a trademarked name.) That's why you have to look for them after dark - it's that bright orange glow that helps you find them, and that glow isn't easy to see in daylight. These rocks, first found along Lake Superior in 2017, have become a "thing" and lots of tourists are looking for them these days.

The Mouth of the Two Hearted River was a beautiful place to explore. I'm not sure we'll go back, but it was a great spot for a fall getaway.

Totality 2024

Families don't get much nerdier than mine, so of course, we had to drive down into totality (again) for this year's eclipse. The moon arrived right on time and we were treated to about 4.5 minutes of wonder.

Totality was incredible, but I was surprised at how different it looked than in the 2017 eclipse. In 2017 the sun's corona visibly moved and appeared to have what looked like swaying tendrils. This time that wasn't nearly as pronounced, but we could actually see CMEs (coronal mass ejections); it was amazing!

Photo courtesy of Craig Turpin

We spent the rest of the day watching the moon and just enjoying the warmth of the sun.

Oh yes, and taking advantage of having access to a garage. (Something we rarely have.) Since I had access to a garage and a shop vac, I spent a good part of the afternoon cleaning out the car. That may not seem like an interesting thing to do, but since I live on a vehicle-free island, I rarely have the ability to leisurely clean out my car. So I made the most of the opportunity.

 

Interesting

Did you know Iceland had a Phallological Museum? Yeah, an entire museum dedicated to penises. So, if you have no interest in looking at pictures of preserved animal penises, this may not be the blog post for you...

According to the audio tour, it all started when a high school principal was given a whale penis as a joke. Some of the teachers in the building  had summer jobs in the whaling industry so more penises arrived. Eventually, his wife insisted the growing collection move out of their living room and the Phallological Museum was born.

The collection is quite large. It includes most animal species found on and near Iceland, as well as a number of foreign species.

The founder of the museum narrates the audio tour, which was very dry. Imagine the teacher from Ferris Bueller's Day Off; now give him and Icelandic accent and a very slight slur and you've got it. Don't get me wrong, it was quite informative; it was just too much information. And anyone who knows me, knows that if I say it was too much information, it was too much information.

Probably my favorite part of the museum was the penises from Icelandic folklore. Too funny. The penis from the hidden man (elf) was invisible, just like they are. Wink wink. Plus, many of the signs throughout the museum included Esperanto. Really? Esperanto? (I know what it is, I just have yet to meet a single person who speaks it - though I did have two friends who took it for their language requirement in high school.)

The museum also has one human specimen, which was donated by a 95 year-old Icelandic man. (No, I did not take a picture.) They also have letters from four additional men who plan to donate when they die. All in all, it was an interesting stop.

On our way out I thought about using the bathroom. Luckily, I didn't have to go all that bad...

Hellisheiðarvirkjun Geothermal Power Plant

Iceland just continues to impress me. Every time you turn around, there is something interesting to see and do.

Like the  Hellisheiðarvirkjun Geothermal Power Plant. It's open to the public - they give tours.

The science behind what they do is really interesting. In a nutshell, they dig down 2 kilometers (about a mile and a quarter), and use steam from the intensely hot fluid to turn the turbines. Then the same steam is used to heat fresh ground water to 86 degrees C (about 187 degrees F), which is then piped to Reykjavik. Next, they remove some of the carbon dioxide and sulfur dioxide from the steam and reinject it back into the ground. Over the next two years it crystallizes into calcite and iron pyrite within the basalt bedrock - decreasing the greenhouse gasses released into the atmosphere.

The displays at the plant were impressive and the guided tour was excellent.

It is hard to imagine that the water heading to Reykjavik in these pipes only loses 2 degrees C (about 3.5 degrees F) on its eight hour trip to Reykjavik. 90% of the homes in Iceland use geothermally heated water to heat their homes and for hot water. When you turn on the hot water tap in Iceland, the water is HOT.

About 27% of Iceland's power comes from geothermal plants, and another about another 70% comes from hydropower. Less than 1% of their electricity comes from diesel-powered station, and none from burning coal.

Strokkur Geysir

I just love Icelandic warning signs, they make it clear that Iceland can be dangerous. My favorite is the the last one on the list: "The nearest hospital is 62 km away." Just in case you decide to do something really stupid, like put your hand in the boiling hot water.

 'Cuz the water is literally boiling.

Just in case you forgot the water was hot, there are reminders every few meters. (80 - 100 degrees C is about 175 - 212 degrees F.)

I've never been to Yellowstone, so I can't compare the Haukadalur Valley geyser to Old Faithful, but I was impressed; water blasted up at least 100 feet.

Apparently this is not the biggest geyser - there use to be a bigger one. An earthquake a number of years ago changed the geology of the area, so that geyser no longer erupts. 

Fun fact of the day - the English word geyser comes from the Icelandic word geysir, and the first written account of geysers in this area of Iceland dates back to 1294.

Þingvellir

Þingvellir National Park is one of the most heavily touristed places in Iceland. Despite being a busy place, we couldn't not visit - especially considering that my dad and I are complete and total science nerds.

 

A lot in Iceland works on the honor system. You need to pay a few dollars to park at the national park, but the system is automated - no one is there to check and there is no printed receipt (though you do type in your license plate number.)

Þingvellir, pronounced think-vek-leer, is stunningly beautiful and full of important Icelandic history.  For us on Mackinac Island, 1780 is historic, but Iceland's first government started meeting on this site in 930. Just let that that sink in for a minute - 930!    

 

The park lies within a rift valley - where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates are moving apart.

 The geography is stunning.

One of the most interesting parts in the park is Stekkjargjá. A place where you can actually walk down in the rift. (I know; the science geek in me could hardly contain my excitement!)

In addition to the first Parliament meeting in this area, historically witches were drown in the lake and a number of criminals were put to death here.

The teacher in me could not resist taking this picture. For all those times my students asked me if understanding the metric system was actually helpful: yes, it is. Thanks to my working knowledge, I understand that I really don't want to walk the 1340 meters or the 1470 meters (both about a kilometer a half, or almost a mile) to the nearest bathroom. I think I'll hop in the car instead...

Totality

It hit me the other day that I never really posted about the solar eclipse last summer. My super fantastic husband arranged for us to drive down into totality, rather than view the partial eclipse Mackinac Island was going to get.

He did a ton of research and found this lovely little park in Murphysboro, Illinois.   It was perfect - quaint and quiet. We started to worry early in the day as we watched thunderheads building nearby, but Mother Nature cooperated and we weren't disappointed. Right on time, the moon showed up and treated us to this:

Photo courtesy of Nick Ulivieri

It's not my picture (none of mine turned out nearly as well,) but it was taken from Murphysboro.  Pictures, even this one, just don't do totality justice. It was such an incredible sight. I never really understood eclipse chasers - until I experienced totality myself.

Before totality, we had a wonderful time playing around with eclipse viewing methods:

through the trees, 

through our hands,

and of course, through our eclipse viewers. 

As silly as it may sound, the two and a half minutes of totality we experienced that day was probably the most incredible thing I've ever seen with my own eyes. Really. The 13 hour drive back to Michigan was completely worth it. It was so amazing, we're already planning for the next total solar eclipse  to hit the United States. Did you know another one was coming? It doesn't cross coast to coast, but it still hits a number of states.

And, ever so conveniently, my husband's parent's backyard is smack dab right in totality.   One guess where we'll be on April 8, 2025.

Molen van Sloten (Sloten Windmill)

On the map the Sloten windmill looks like it is way out of town, but it really isn't; it's only about eight miles from Amsterdam's Central Station. Not only is it within the city limits of Amsterdam, but it's the only windmill in Amsterdam that still pumps water and is open to the public.

To get there, we hopped on Tram One, at the corner near our house (Prinsengracht and Leidsestraat) and rode almost to the end of the line. From there we walked for about 15 minutes along a quiet canal to the Windmill. It took us maybe 30 or 40 minutes - including the walk.

Inside, the volunteers take you through just how windmills work. I didn't know each one can only lift water 1.5 meters (about five feet,) so typically a group of windmills worked together to keep a polder (an area of reclaimed land protected by dikes) dry. This particular area, which is about four meters below sea level (about 13 feet) use to have three windmills.

 

At the lowest level of the water-pumping mills there's an Archimedes' screw.

The screw connects to the sails (that move "anti-clockwise," by the way) by means of a system of wooden gears. They're lubricated with beeswax because according to our guide, Harry, the beeswax doesn't soak into the wood. The cogs were made to fit precisely; any other wax would cause the wood to swell and the cogs would no longer fit.

At full speed the Sloten windmill can pump over 60,000 liters (almost 16,000 gallons) of water a minute.

I found it interesting how the sails and main axle were built with an 18 degree tilt. According to Harry, the tilt is what holds all the moving pieces together; ingenious. Makes me wonder why 18 degrees - why not 17 or 19? How much trial and error did it take to figure out that measurement?

Not only was the windmill amazing to see in action, the view from the platform was spectacular. We could see some of the numerous canals surrounding the polder.

Of the over 10,000 windmills that operated in the Netherlands, most were replaced over the years by steam power and later electricity. Today only about 1,200 remain. Once a year the Netherlands celebrates  National Mill Day. On the second Saturday in May many windmills around the country, that are not usually open to the public, open their doors to visitors. How fun would that be!

We loved visiting this windmill. Sure the attached Coopery Museum was a little kitschy, but it was created by and is completely staffed by volunteers. Our €20.00 entrance fee will go to help maintain this neat site and keep it open to the public. That makes me smile.