Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Here's a Pretty Puzzle...What are These Trees Doing Here? An Evening at Calaveras Big Trees

When the trees were discovered by people of European descent in the 1850s, few believed the stories of their immense size. There were of legends and tall tales emerging from the explorations of the American West, but trees that towered 300 feet high with diameters of 35 feet just seemed beyond the pale. Eventually promoters stripped the bark off one of the really big ones, took the pieces to an exhibition back east and reconstructed the tree. Many still considered it a hoax anyway.
The poor tree that was stripped still stands today, a dead snag in the Sequoia Grove at Calaveras Big Trees State Park in the northern Sierra Nevada along Highway 4. I didn't get images of that tree, but there were plenty of other living ones to enjoy. We were there the other day on a lark. We had a couple of hours to see the sinking sun and lengthening shadows in the forest before a late dinner in Angels Camp.
The Sequoia Trees (Sequoiadendron gigantea) are an enigma. They exist today only in a series of 65 individual groves scattered across mainly the southern Sierra Nevada. They are relatives of the Coast Redwoods, and the Dawn Redwood of China, a tree that existed in a single grove which was only scientifically described in the 1940s. Yet the trees have existed since the age of the dinosaurs and were once distributed widely across the northern hemisphere. Their Sierra home is their last refuge. About half the original Sequoia trees were cut down prior to receiving protection, but because the wood was brittle and tended to shatter, they only found use as grape stakes and the like. Nearly all the remaining trees are protected, either in Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Park, Yosemite National Park, or Giant Sequoia National Monument.
Aside from human attack, they are not easily killed. Their bark is thick and lacks easily burnable sap so most wildfires don't hurt them (high burning "crown" fires are an important exception). The bark is thick, keeping them safe from insect attack. The trees are thought capable of living more than 3,000 years. Their greatest liability is a shallow root system that lacks a large taproot, so they can topple on uneven slopes or during intense windstorms.
The cool mystery about these trees is the one of their biogeography. How did they get to where they are today, and how did they survive when most of their closest relatives did not? Calaveras Big Trees is an even greater mystery, along with a small grove in Placer County consisting of a mere six mature trees. Looking at the map below, one can see their isolation from the others of their species, more than fifty miles of deep gorges and canyons.

At least one part of the explanation is clear. They migrated over the Sierra Nevada crest. Every time I say that I envision the gigantic trees walking like some of Tolkien's Ents, but it is better to see them as propagating along pathways where seeds could thrive and grow. This would be impossible with the present day Sierra, given the crest topping out at elevations over 10,000 feet. But the Sierra Nevada is a young mountain range, and it's probably only been a few million years since the range rose and tilted to the west (opinions on this scenario, it should be noted, vary). The trees that once thrived across Nevada had an uninterrupted slope towards the west. As the mountains continued to rise, they cut off the precipitation into Nevada's Basin and Range Province, turning the region into the semi-arid and desert environment that it is today.
Perhaps the main factor in the decline of the Sequoia trees across the hemisphere was the Pleistocene Ice Ages. A dozen times or more the ice advanced and receded across the northern parts of the continents and in the high mountains. The habitat for the trees was simply erased across much of the former range and the trees couldn't propagate quickly enough to escape the ice. In the Sierra Nevada, however, the unique geography, the westward tilted block of rock, probably saved the trees. When conditions grew colder, the seeds could propagate in soils lower on the westward slopes, and when the ice receded, they could propagate uphill.
Still, one has to wonder what the Calaveras grove is doing here, fifty miles north of their relatives in Yosemite National Park (who are in turn fifty miles north of the bulk of the Sequoia groves). And those six mature trees in Placer County? How have they survived? For the record, there were historically eight trees, but two fell in 1862. It's a pleasant mystery to contemplate as one wanders through the two beautiful groves at Calaveras.

Friday, September 14, 2018

Fall in the Great Valley: A Colorful Treat

I admit that California's Great Valley is sometimes a drab place. In the late summer, the almonds are being harvested, and the process involves the production of vast amounts of dust. The air is stagnant, trapped between the Coast Ranges and Sierra Nevada, with few winds to clear the skies. For weeks at a time, I won't be able to see either mountain range. And the sunsets are generally unremarkable affairs that are totally easy to ignore.

As the fall season approaches, things start to change a bit. For months we have been trapped beneath the subtropical belt of high pressure, a global circulation pattern that blocks rainstorms from reaching California. Little or no rain will fall from May to October. But when we reach September, the first tentative low pressure systems start to rotate out of the northwest, bringing no precipitation but the breezes start to clear out the dust and smoke. And the first cloud banks start to appear.
The sky was a real treat tonight. For the last few days we've had some high puffy cumulus clouds in the upper atmosphere, and on Thursday morning I spied the Coast Ranges and the Sierra Nevada as I climbed the outdoor stairs to my office. And tonight the clouds blazed forth in full glory as the sun sank deeper below the horizon. The white light was refracted through air layers on the horizon and broke up into shades of yellow, pink and red.

I know there are lots of places where spectacular sunsets are a way of life. The Oregon coast, Tucson, and Maui come to mind out of my own experiences. But there is something a little special about seeing a spectacular sunset like this in a place where they are precious and few.

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Want to See Some Incredible Volcanoes Up Close? Geology of California's Volcanoes, Sept. 27-Oct. 1, with Modesto Junior College

I write so much about my travels around the American West and elsewhere, and some might wonder where I find the time. Well...I tend to have a group of students with me. Geology, perhaps more than any other science, is best learned in the field, and our school recognizes the importance of field experiences. The community college system in California is of course one of the best alternatives for beginning a college education, a gateway to transferring into universities, but we also recognize lifelong learning as a part of our mission. Education doesn't just end with a degree. Professionals in one career can benefit from courses in related disciplines as a way of improving their job performance, or advancing up the pay scale. And all citizens can benefit from becoming better informed on the political issues of the day, such as climate change, or energy development (pulling some examples from geology).

With this in mind, I wanted to let my Modesto area-based readers know about some great field studies trips coming up this fall. On September 27-October 1, I'll be teaching Geology 185, the Geology of California's Volcanoes. We'll be exploring Mt. Shasta, Lava Beds National Monument, Medicine Lake Highland, and Lassen Volcanic National Park, as well as Castle Crags and McArthur-Burney Falls State Parks. We will be camping at Woodson Bridge State Park the first night, spend two nights at Lava Beds National Monument, and the last night at McArthur-Burney Falls State Park. There will be hiking and caving opportunities, and some simply incredible scenery among some of the youngest volcanic features in the western United States.

If this sounds intriguing, you can find more information at http://hayesg.faculty.mjc.edu/Cascades_field_studies.html. California residents pay the normal tuition rate (2 semester units), but the rate is higher for out of state participants. The $80 fee for the course covers the van transportation and fees at the various parks and campgrounds. The students provide their own food (we'll have stoves and fuel). For my local readers, we'll have an organizational meeting on Thursday, September 13 in the Science Community Center at Modesto Junior College, room 326, at 5:30 PM. Contact me if you have questions.

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Isn't All Geology in the Field? Well, Here's an Exciting Field

There's an ugly vacant lot adjacent to the Science Community Center at Modesto Junior College (the science lab and museum where I work). It's been collecting weeds and litter for years, and some administration officials a few years ago wanted to plant it with grass, and some even suggested making it a parking lot. Maybe there is a little bit of logic to that, given the impacted parking situation at our school, but we, the science faculty and museum staff at MJC had other plans.

More than a decade ago, the people of our county had a marvelous vision of the future, and passed Measure E, a bond issue for almost a billion dollars that would be used to modernize the antiquated buildings at Modesto Junior College. Around $80 million was used to construct the Science Community Center, a gigantic boon to science teaching in our region that includes a planetarium, a research-level observatory, a natural history museum (the Great Valley Museum), and the labs and classrooms for our courses in biology, physics, chemistry, astronomy, and the earth sciences. It is now one of the finest teaching facilities in the state, but it wasn't finished.

For more than three decades the science faculty and museum staff have been trying to put together an outdoor nature laboratory that would complement the science labs and museum experience. Over and over the proposals were made, and time after time we were told there was no budget available to complete such a project. With the passage of Measure E, it looked like the dream might actually come to fruition. But it wasn't an easy road. There were many proposals, and one by one the highest priority projects were constructed. The pool of available funds dwindled to the last few million dollars, and there were still another dozen or so proposals competing for the last of the funds. We went through several presidents during that time, and some supported our proposal and some didn't. The possibility of ever getting an outdoor education laboratory seemed to be dwindling.

But finally word came out that the project had been approved! The planning process then needed to start, and I served on the committee that designed the lab. We came up with what we thought would be the best blueprint, and it went out to bid. The bids came in high, so we went back to work with a modified proposal. I may have missed a memo, because a bid was finally accepted and when I walked into my office this morning a construction crew was beginning to bulldoze and survey the field! It's an exciting moment for our community.
When it is completed, this empty field will have a greenhouse and a collection of native vegetation of the Great Valley and the surrounding foothills. There will be outcrops of the important rocks of the Sierra Nevada foothills, including granite, the "tombstone rocks" of Mother Lode slate, the volcanic rocks of Table Mountain, and others. There will be a vernal pool, a biological oddity that is practically unique to the Great Valley. There will also be a simulated paleontology excavation pit that will allow school children to experience what it is like to dig for the fossils that have been found in our region. The children who visit our Great Valley Museum will have the opportunity to see exhibits about the natural history of the region, and then they will be able to go outdoors and experience the natural environment directly. Our long-term dream is finally becoming a reality.

Wow, that was fast. I finished my morning classes and look out over the work area and the perimeter fencing is already up.
 And after my lunch, there's a bulldozer already scraping off the surface weeds. Fast moving!

Sunday, August 26, 2018

Where's My Dam*ed River? Oh, Excuse Me, Where's the River Dam?

There's supposed to be a river here. Right there flowing under the bridge where I was standing. And not a little river, it's supposed to be the Tuolumne River, the big watercourse that drains most of Yosemite National Park and provides much of the water used in the Bay Area and in Central Valley irrigation.

It's not really a mystery where the river is. If you've been following this blog, you'd know that a few weeks back I wrote about the removal of Dennett Dam, a dangerous eyesore that has bedeviled river planners for decades. The Tuolumne River Trust spearheaded the effort, raising more than a million dollars to accomplish this important task. And this week when I looked over the edge of the Ninth Street Bridge, the dam was pretty much gone. You can see the scene as it was on August 8 in the picture below...

The construction company that is performing the removal work needed to divert the river for the duration of the project, so they constructed a temporary levee on the north side of the river. The river is at an extremely low level due of course to the season, and the locking up of water in Don Pedro Reservoir many miles upstream.

The picture below shows the water returning to the normal channel.
There is an interesting phenomena visible at the moment for those who have ever had trouble visualizing the idea of a groundwater table. The river flows over unconsolidated sediments, so much of the river water is actually underground. Damming and diverting the visible flow of the river does not block the movement of groundwater, so as the construction company digs away at the foundations of the dam, groundwater is constantly seeping through to the surface and ponding in the excavation. The company of course knew this would happen so they installed pumps and hoses on the site to put the water back in the river.
The flow of the groundwater was rather robust, as can be seen below.

The dam removal should be complete in a few weeks (I'm sure I'll find time to do some kind of update), and the Tuolumne River will be changed, not just here, but for some thirty miles upstream. One of the most damaging aspects of the old dam (beside the fact that it killed a number of people) is that it constricted the flow of the river at a critical spot where young salmon were forced into a narrow channel where predators could pick them off easily. With the constriction gone, more salmon may survive, and that should lead to a cascade of positive environmental changes on the river.

Friday, August 24, 2018

How To Predict Earthquakes Infallibly (Hint: You Won't Find It Here)

Actually, I can reverse-predict earthquakes. I can state unequivocally that no more big earthquakes are going to happen in the near future. Here's how I can say this: I have a seismometer in the department at Modesto Junior College. It's on all the time, and it will usually pick up magnitude 6 quakes from anywhere in the world, and pretty much any magnitude 4 quake around California. So when reports started coming in from around the planet that we had experienced a couple of large earthquakes, I was anxious to see what the records looked like on our unit.

I got to school yesterday and found that there had been a power outage, and I got nothing. No records at all. So I turned the unit back on and that's why I know the big quakes will stop. Now that the seismometer is operating within parameters, nothing is sure to happen.

You all seem skeptical! You think this doesn't work? It doesn't seem scientific? Well, I guess you are right.

But it IS at least as scientific as the irresponsible scribes across the media who have suddenly spawned dozens if not hundreds of articles noting the clustering of earthquake events and suggesting that California must be next. The BIG ONE IS COMING, they say. These stories are uninformed, and they do a lot of damage of the "Boy Who Cried Wolf" nature.
People are perfectly willing to use click-bait titles to get attention (heck, even I did just now, but I'm not selling anything). And they spread a great deal of misinformation, leaving people vulnerable and unprepared for when the big earthquakes actually happen.

So here is my brief message about infallibly predicting earthquakes: it can't be done, and anyone on the web who says they can is deceiving you. The best we can do is invest in the study of the active faults in our region, and develop probabilities like those seen on the map below. Trust the seismologists and geologists, and learn to think critically about earthquakes. And when you see otherwise responsible news media getting the story wrong, do your part to inform the reporters and news readers.

Do you want to learn more? There are lots of reliable places to look. Start with the U.S. Geological Survey, the California Geological Survey, the Southern California Earthquake Center, and the UC Berkeley Seismological Laboratory.

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

Deep in the Hoh Rainforest of Olympic National Park in a Very Hot Summer

I am a mountain person. I'm a desert person. I like being in places where I can see vast distances, where I can navigate by prominent landmarks. I'm often spooked by dense forest environments where I can see only a few yards through the gloom and can't navigate well. I'm talking about map and compass orienteering, but I think a thick forest could disrupt GPS signals too. And what happens if the batteries go dead?
Just the same, when it came to choosing a vacation destination this summer, we headed to the northwest, and ultimately found ourselves camping in the Hoh Rainforest of Olympic National Park in Washington. In a summer of record-breaking heat, it was nice to find a cool and shady place. It was blissful.

The park was born out of controversy. The Olympic Peninsula is a mountainous landscape that captures vast amounts of precipitation from Pacific storms and the western side of the peninsula is especially lush with a temperate rainforest that was a magnet for timber interests. The huge trees were being harvested at a furious rate, and as the loggers worked their way farther into the interior, people became concerned about the wholesale destruction of the unique environment. Grover Cleveland established an Olympic Forest Reserve in 1897, and Theodore Roosevelt upgraded the status to a national monument in 1909. Congress acted in 1938 to designate the forest as a Olympic National Park. There is always a conflict between those who wish to make short-term profits versus those who recognize the need to preserve intact ecosystems with more intangible values such as clean air and water, wildlife diversity, education, recreation, and national pride.
We were lucky in our timing. We traveled in the middle of July instead of August. I was watching reports this week of a dense blanket of smoke from hundreds of fires in British Columbia covering the Pacific Northwest. And of course we haven't been spared here in California. We've had another horrific year of gigantic wildfires that have affected hundreds of thousands of acres, and we had weeks of smoky conditions related to the Ferguson Fire, the Donnell Fire, and dozens of others. There have also been firestorms of political controversy swirling about these fires.
Biologic and climate systems are complex, of course, but there are also some fundamental clear truths: the climate is getting warmer, and wildfires are getting worse. We are living the changes that were predicted thirty or more years ago by climate scientists, and the time we have for confronting the problems associated with warming is limited.
Unfortunately we also live in a time when politicians are in charge who deny climate change despite the overwhelming evidence that proves it is happening. The president says that climate change is not a factor in forest fires, that this is a "management situation", and that we need to "beautifully" remove fallen trees. Secretary of the Interior Zinke says we "have been held hostage by these environmental terrorist groups...that have refused to allow harvest of timber". These statements are highly misleading at best and display ignorance of the science.

Forests have been mismanaged. For more than a century a misunderstanding of how fire interacts with a forest environment has meant that fire suppression at all costs was the method of choice. This has indeed allowed overgrowth of young trees and a buildup of fuel on the forest floors. It is a problem though that has been exacerbated by the effects of drought and warming temperatures.
There are good ways of dealing with forests on public lands, and there are poor choices that allow a few to profit to the detriment of the rest of us. Clearing out fuel is needed given the new environmental regime that we now live in, but the best approaches will involve prescribed fires that burn out the undergrowth and allow mature trees to thrive, along with other more innovative approaches. Timber companies will say they can clear out the forests, but they invariably favor the big mature trees (that can better survive wildfires), or clear-cut the slopes and replant a single species of tree. This is tree-farming, not forest management. There are big changes coming in our beautiful forests, and a lot of them are not good. The last thing we need to be doing is letting a few people profit, leaving the forests in worse shape than they are now. Denying climate change is simply a pretext to allow a few people to profit from a resource that belongs to all of us.
That wasn't on my mind last month, though. I was instead reveling in the coolness and quiet of the trail we were following. It was late in the afternoon and we had the forest to ourselves (aside from a few deer and a smattering of birds...and a gross slug). It was a blessing to experience the living example of a great idea: to preserve parts of the primeval landscapes of our country for the good of all.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

The Sliding Stones of (Not) Racetrack Playa, and One of the Less Important Consequences of Climate Change

UNR field studies stop on the Carson Sink and Highway 50, circa 1983
There are lots of mystery spots in the world. My garage is one of them. Over the decades it has collected the flotsam and jetsam of our lives, and it hasn't happened in any kind of organized manner. The last few weeks of this summer has seen one of our most ambitious attempts yet to clear out the debris and preserve the important records of our lives. I even had a yard sale! There have been lots of precious little discoveries, and one of them was the snapshot above, of another mystery spot in the world. It was taken in 1983 or 1984 when I was attending grad school at the University of Nevada, Reno.

I know that for some of you, seeing the tracks across the playa surface can only mean one place on the planet: Racetrack Playa in Death Valley National Park. For years and years geologists and others noted the strange trackways made by pebbles and boulders and pondered how in the world they happened. There have been the "boring" scientific hypotheses involving wind, water and ice, and the more exotic fringe ideas like weird magnetic currents and aliens. I took the picture, but I've never been to Racetrack Playa and therefore am not guilty of tampering with the stones (the National Park Service and geologists take a very dim view of such things). It turns out the strange sliding stones have been found in other places. I know of at least three of them.
Paul is going to solve the mystery of Bonnie Claire Playa, no matter the cost.
There seem to be at least three important factors to get sliding stones: a flat playa surface, a nearby source of rocks, and the possibility of freezing windy conditions. The Racetrack has the Grandstand, an island of rock in the midst of the playa and a high enough altitude to get freezing conditions once in awhile. Bonnie Claire Playa in the vicinity of Death Valley has an active alluvial fan and similar elevation. And Highway 50 in the Carson Sink of Nevada has Highway 50. The highway has to cross the playa and to prevent flooding it has been built on a roadway of stones brought in from elsewhere. That's where I was when I snapped the opening picture of this post. Some of the stones escaped from the highway and set off across the playa surface. My fellow students were trying to suggest an origin of the trackways as being the result of high winds and too many drunk geologists being blown across the dry lake surface.
Moving stones on Bonnie Claire Playa
Some hypotheses involved only extreme winds blowing over a very slick muddy playa surface. Some experiments suggested that pebbles could be set in motion by hurricane force winds, but wind by itself cannot explain the fact that some of the moving stones weigh hundreds of pounds. The fact that some rock trails run parallel to each other suggest that they were locked together. A sheet of ice covering the playa provides a possible explanation. It the ice were to break up into smaller sheets, the ice could presumably act as a sail. Most observers figured that high winds were still a necessity.
Stone tracks on Bonnie Claire Playa
In 2013 cameras caught the movement of the stones (see it here). Ice was indeed involved, but hurricane force winds weren't required. The sheets of ice were pushing the rocks around in winds as little as 10 miles per hour. It's not clear if this process can explain the movement of the larger boulders.

The greatest irony of the mystery of the sliding stones is that they might soon no longer move at all. As the climate changes and warms over the coming decades, the required conditions, particularly that of ice formation, will no longer exist.
Here is one more mystery for you. When we last visited Bonnie Claire Playa, we found this circular structure. I welcome any explanation you can provide for this one! UFOs need not apply, even though Area 51 is only a few hundred miles away. You can see some more pictures of the strange feature in my post here: https://geotripper.blogspot.com/2015/02/a-little-mystery-to-accompany-moving.html

Learn more about the research on the sliding stones of Racetrack Playa here:

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

A Collared Lizard for World Lizard Day

I was thinking and planning my next post on our recent trip to the Pacific Northwest, but was getting writer's block. I caught a post from the Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge that today was World Lizard Day. I don't know how such things are determined (there is also a Collect Rocks Day), but it was enough to make me look for the best picture I could remember taking of a lizard. It was a Collared Lizard (Crotaphytus collaris) that I saw during a field trip stop at Canyon of the Ancients National Monument in southwest Colorado.

Lizards evolved in late Permian or Triassic Time (~250 million years ago). They were part of the dinosaurian ecosystem, but they are not closely related to dinosaurs having split off from more primitive reptiles before the dinosaurs evolved. In a sense birds are closer relatives to the dinosaurs than lizards are, given that birds directly evolved from a group (the theropods) within the dinosaur clade. There are about 6,000 species of lizard in the world today, and they occupy habitats from tropical rainforests to the tundra.

Saturday, August 11, 2018

The Disappointing Cape: Land's End and Rock Pillows

Just over 200 years ago, the first expedition of Americans reached the Pacific Ocean after following the Missouri River over the Rocky Mountains and down the Columbia River. Lewis and Clark and their crew arrived in November of 1805, and they knew they could not make the return trip until the winter snows abated.

They explored the area around the mouth of the Columbia for an decent campsite to stay in several months. They ultimately settled on the south side of the river at Fort Clatsop, but for a time they spent a week at "that dismal little nitch" on the north side of the river. They explored around the rocky peninsula that had already been given the name Cape Disappointment by fur trader John Meares who, because of a storm, turned his ship around in 1788, just missing the mouth of the Columbia. The credited discovery was four years later, although we know that history has a serious bias; the river was discovered more than 10,000 years ago by humans.

The peninsula is today a state park, and it has a well-developed campground complex that fronts a wide sandy beach, with a more modest sandy cove on the east side called Waikiki Beach (it memorializes a Hawaiian seaman who perished during a shipwreck).

The winter encampment of the Lewis and Clark expedition at Fort Clatsop was largely a miserable affair with constant hunger and lack of supplies. They had hoped to flag down a sailing ship coming down the coast to trade for supplies, but their fort was a couple of miles from the beach and they missed ships for lack of a good lookout point. One might wonder why they didn't set up camp on the wide sandy beaches of Cape Disappointment. The answer is pretty straightforward: the beach didn't exist when they were there. It was a rocky peninsula as can be seen on their sketched map (below)

The mouth of the Columbia River is a nightmare for shipping. The discharge is more than enough to support even large freighters as far upstream as Portland, but the river carries vast amounts of sand and silt, and the shifting bars have caused vast numbers of shipwrecks. In an effort to stabilize the shifting sand bars, jetties were constructed in 1886. One extends for several miles from Cape Disappointment. Although the rock wall helps to keep the river channel clear, it also serves as a barrier to the southward movement of sand along the coast north of the Cape. The sand started backing up immediately forming the wide flat beaches that can be explored today (see the map below...sand is the yellow unit marked "Qb").
Source: US Geological Survey and https://nwgeology.wordpress.com/the-fieldtrips/pillow-lava-sites-in-washington/pillows-in-the-crescent-formation-cape-disappointment-state-park/

One of the coolest things about exploring Cape Disappointment is the privilege to actually see the rocks. The wave-carved cliffs are not totally covered by vegetation as is so often the case in western Washington. And the rocks are weird. They are not layered, and instead are marked by strange globular masses of what turns out to be weathered and oxidized orange basalt (we would normally expect basalt to be black like the lava flows in Hawaii). How did they get this way?
Note the cormorant for scale (upper left)
When basalt erupts underwater, it forms these globs that are about the size of thick down pillows. It looks like toothpaste being squeezed out and then getting pinched off. Although these rocks are on land today, they were once on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. They formed in eruptions at the mid-ocean ridge on the seafloor. They traveled like a conveyor belt for hundreds of miles (at the stunning rate of several inches a year) and were scraped off and added to the edge of the continent in the subduction zone that forms the western boundary of the North American Plate in Washington and Oregon. These rocks, the Crescent Formation, are Eocene in age (around 40 million years ago).

Cape Disappointment is a fascinating place to explore (it's neither dismal or disappointing). Watch the weather, though. Not only for the incessant rain, but for fog. It's said to be the foggiest place in the country which helps explain why the peninsula has not one, but two lighthouses.