Then a big pink-and-buff roadcut confused him. He said he thought it consisted of “young volcanics,” but preferred to let it remain “mysterious for the moment.” The moment stretched. Deffe yes is as eclectic as a geologist can become, a generalist of remarkable range, but his particular expertise-he wrote his dissertation in Nevada and has done much work there since-was fading in the distance behind him. Up the road was a metasediment in dark and narrow blocks going every which way, like jackstraws. Deffeyes got out of the pickup and put his nose on the outcrop, but he had an easier time identifying a bald eagle that zakelijke energie vergelijken watched him from an overhanging pine. “You need a new geologist,” he said to me. We took a rock sample, washed our hands in melting snow, and ate a couple of sandwiches as we watched wet traffic with bright headlights come down from Donner Summit. Looking back to the cloudless Basin and Range and seeing what lay ahead for us, Deffeyes said, “Out of the rain shadow, into the rain.” After we got up into the high country ourselves, some additional metasediment left him colder than the rain. “The time has come to tum you over to Eldridge Moores,” he said. A few miles farther on, we came to a big, gravelly roadcut that looked like an ash fall, a mudRow, glacial till, and fresh oatmeal, imperfectly blended. “I don’t know what this glop is,” he said, in final capitulation. “You need a new geologist. You need a Californian.”
Moores could be found on a one-acre farm in the Great Central Valley-in a tract surrounded on three sides by the vegetable-crop field labs of the University of California, Davis. Twenty years earlier, Davis had been an zakelijke energie agricultural college, but it had since expanded in numerous directions to take its place beside Berkeley, attracting to the Geology Department, for example, such youthful figures of future reputation as the mantle petrologist Ian MacGregor and the paleobiologist Jere Lipps, not to mention the tectonicist Eldridge Moores.