I was hoping for an extra few hours somewhere in the race between hither and yon to write something of substance, but it didn’t come. I do want you to know that instead of writing, I camped near Crystal Geyser in Utah and listened to it gurgle and throb all night long. I dreamt to the sound, imagining pressure inside the crust of the planet letting off its burden, then building up and letting off again.
It’s not much of a geyser anymore. I remember it sending up a 40-foot-tall plume in the 1980s, a true wonder launching skyward in the desert not far from the town of Green River. The cause of the geyser was an exploratory oil well dropped in 1935. The drill hit a carbon dioxide pocket and up came a violent veil of cold, frothy soda water 60 feet tall. Decades later it was down to 40 feet tall, and down from there until it has become hardly more than a burble over the last several years.
This year, robust aquifer recharge from a snow-rich winter gave the geyser a little life again. In my several-hour stopover, I didn’t see it burst more than five feet above the corroded pipe, launching in arhythmic, gulping waves. That’s more than has been seen in years.
The gas pocket lies about 360 feet below the surface, and groundwater pours into it through the well where the water becomes carbonated and erupts out of the borehole. Water drains back down and the cycle starts again.
What I listened to sounded like an ocean surf that couldn’t decide on its pattern. It guzzled and blew and fell silent for several seconds before bursting again. Rain started up late that night, introducing another layer of percussion to my tent, and I slept to water falling from above and thrusting up below, which is plenty for one night.
Photo: cc
One of the many wonders I didn’t know existed as I used to traipse around Utah looking for wonders. I have also seen 3 different natural springs slowing down steadily as the years sped by in 3 different states I’ve lived in… (Sedona, AZ; Moab, UT; and Lee Vining, CA). How about the lovely little San Pedro river in southern Arizona? Ground water pumping has decimated its northward flow to the Gila, which itself is nearly done flowing above ground. Will we open our eyes when the flows stop?