The ways roads are used, with ever larger and heavier vehicles, have dramatic consequences on the environment – and electric cars are not the answer Today, there is an average of 37 tonnes of road per inhabitant of the planet. The weight of the road network alone accounts for a third of all construction worldwide, and has grown exponentially in the 20th century. There is 10 times more bitumen, in mass, than there are living animals. Yet growth in the mass of roads does not automatically correspond to population growth, or translate into increased length of road networks. In wealthier countries, the number of metres of road per inhabitant has actually fallen over the last century. In the United States, for instance, between 1905 and 2015 the length of the network increased by a factor of 1.75 and the population by a factor of 3.8, compared with 21 for the mass of roads. Roads have become wider and, above all, much thicker. To understand the evolution of these parameters, and their environmental impact, it is helpful to trace the different stages in the life of the motorway.  Until the early 20th century, roads were used for various modes of transport, including horses, bicycles, pedestrians and trams; as a result of the construction of railways, road traffic even declined in some European countries in the 19th century. The main novelty brought by the motorway was that they would be reserved for motorised traffic. In several languages, the word itself – autostrada, autobahn, autoroute or motorway – speaks of this exclusivity.  Roman roads varied from simple corduroy roads, made by placing logs perpendicular to the direction of the road over a low or swampy area, to paved roads, as this engraving from Jean Rondelet’s 19th‑century Traité Théorique et Pratique de l’Art de Bâtir shows. Using deep roadbeds of tamped rubble as an underlying layer to ensure that they kept dry, major roads were often stone-paved, metalled, cambered for drainage and flanked by footpaths, bridleways and drainage ditches Like any major piece of infrastructure, motorways became the subject of ideological discourse, long before any shovel hit the ground; politicians underlined their role in the service of the nation, how they would contribute to progress, development, the economy, modernity and even civilisation. The inauguration ceremony for the construction of the first autostrada took place in March 1923, presided over by Italy’s prime minister Benito Mussolini. The second major motorway programme was announced by the Nazi government in 1933, with a national network planned to be around 7,000 kilometres long. In his 2017 book Driving Modernity: Technology, Experts, Politics, and Fascist Motorways, 1922–1943, historian Massimo Moraglio shows how both programmes were used as propaganda tools by the regimes, most notably at the international road congresses in Milan in 1926 and Munich in 1934. In the European postwar era, the notion of the ‘civilising’ effect of roads persevered. In 1962, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, then‑secretary of state for finances and later president of France, argued that expanded motorways would bring ‘progress, activity and life’. This discourse soon butted up against the realities of how motorways affected individuals and communities. In his 2011 book Fighting Traffic: The Dawn of the Motor Age in the American City, Peter D Norton explores the history of resistance to the imposition of motorised traffic in North American cities. Until the 1920s, there was a perception that cars were dangerous newcomers, and that other street and road uses – especially walking – were more legitimate. Cars were associated with speed and danger; restrictions on motorists, especially speed limits, were routine.  Built between 1962 and 1970, the Westway was London’s first urban motorway, elevated above the city to use less land. Construction workers are seen stressing the longitudinal soffit cables inside the box section of the deck units to achieve the bearing capacity necessary to carry the weight of traffic Credit: Heritage Image Partnership Ltd / Alamy To gain domination over cities, motor vehicles had to win priority over other street uses. Rather than restricting the flow of vehicles to minimise the risk of road accidents, a specific infrastructure was dedicated to them: both inner‑city roads and motorways. Cutting through the landscape, the motorway had, by definition, to be inaccessible by any other means of transport than motorised vehicle. To guarantee the fluidity of traffic, the construction of imposing bridges, tunnels and interchanges is necessary, particularly at junctions with other roads, railways or canals. This prioritisation of one type of user inevitably impacts journeys for others; as space is fragmented, short journeys are lengthened for those trying to navigate space by foot or bicycle.  Enabling cars to drive at around 110–140km/h on motorways, as modern motorways do, directly impacts their design, with major environmental effects: the gradient has to be gentle (4 per cent), the curves long (1.5km in radius) and the lanes wide, to allow vehicles to overtake each other safely. As much terrain around the world is not naturally suited to these requirements, the earthworks are considerable: in France, the construction of a metre of highway requires moving some 100m3 of earth, and when the soil is soft, full of clay or peat, it is made firmer with hydraulic lime and cement before the highway’s first sub‑layers are laid. This material cost reinforces the criticisms levelled in the 1960s, by the likes of Jane Jacobs and Lewis Mumford, at urban planning that prioritised the personal motor vehicle. When roads are widened to accommodate more traffic, buildings are sliced and demolished, as happened in Dhaka’s Bhasantek Road in 2021 Credit: Dhaka Tribune Once built, the motorway is never inert. Motorway projects today generally anticipate future expansion (from 2×2 to 2×3 to 2×4 lanes), and include a large median strip of 12m between the lanes, with a view to adding new ones. Increases in speed and vehicle sizes have also translated into wider lanes, from 2.5m in 1945 to 3.5m today. The average contemporary motorway footprint is therefore 100 square metres per linear metre. Indeed, although the construction of a road is supposed to reduce congestion, it also generates new traffic and, therefore, new congestion. This is the principle of ‘induced traffic’: the provision of extra road capacity results in a greater volume of traffic. The Katy Freeway in Texas famously illustrates this dynamic. Built as a regular six‑lane highway in the 1960s, it was called the second worst bottleneck in the nation by 2004, wasting 25 million hours a year of commuter time. In 2011, the state of Texas invested US$2.8 billion to fix this problem, widening the road to a staggering total of 26 lanes. By 2014, the morning and afternoon traffic had both increased again. The vicious circle based on the induced traffic has been empirically demonstrated in most countries: traffic has continued to increase and congestion remains unresolved, leading to ever-increasing emissions. In the EU, transport is the only sector where greenhouse gas emissions have increased in the past three decades, rising 33.5 per cent between 1990 and 2019. Transport accounts for around a fifth of global CO₂ emissions today, with three quarters of this figure linked to road transport. Houston’s Katy Freeway is one of the world’s widest motorways, with 26 lanes. Its last expansion, in 2008, was initially hailed as a success, but within five years, peak travel times were longer than before the expansion – a direct illustration of the principle of induced traffic Credit: Smiley N Pool / Houston Chronicle / Getty Like other large transport infrastructures such as ports and airports, motorways are designed for the largest and heaviest vehicles. Engineers, road administrations and politicians have known since the 1950s that one truck represents millions of cars: the impact of a vehicle on the roadway is exponential to its weight – an online ‘road damage calculator’ allows you to compare the damage done by different types of vehicles to the road. Over the years, heavier and heavier trucks have been authorised to operate on roads: from 8‑tonne trucks in 1945 to 44 tonnes nowadays. The European Parliament adopted a revised directive on 12 March 2024 authorising mega‑trucks to travel on European roads; they can measure up to 25 metres and weigh up to 60 tonnes, compared with the previous limits of 18.75 metres and 44 tonnes. This is a political and economic choice with considerable material effects: thickness, rigidity of sub‑bases and consolidation of soil and subsoil with lime and cement. Altogether, motorways are 10 times thicker than large roads from the late 19th century. In France, it takes an average of 30 tonnes of sand and aggregate to build one linear metre of motorway, 100 times more than cement and bitumen.  The material history of road networks is a history of quarrying and environmental damage. The traces of roads can also be seen in rivers emptied of their sediment, the notches of quarries in the hills and the furrows of dredgers extracting sand from the seabed. This material extraction, arguably the most significant in human history, has dramatic ecological consequences for rivers, groundwater tables, the rise of sea levels and saltwater in farmlands, as well as biodiversity. As sand is ubiquitous and very cheap, the history of roads is also the history of a local extractivism and environmental conflicts around the world.  Shoving and rutting is the bulging and rippling of the pavement surface. Once built, roads require extensive maintenance – the heavier the vehicles, the quicker the damage. From pothole repair to the full resurfacing of a road, maintenance contributes to keeping road users safe Credit: Yakov Oskanov / Alamy Once roads are built and extended, they need to be maintained to support the circulation of lorries and, by extension, commodities. This stage is becoming increasingly important as rail freight, which used to be important in countries such as France and the UK, is declining, accounting for no more than 10 per cent of the transport of commodities. Engineers might judge that a motorway is destined to last 20 years or so, but this prognosis will be significantly reduced with heavy traffic. The same applies to the thousands of motorway bridges: in the UK, nearly half of the 9,000 highway bridges are in poor condition; in France, 7 per cent of the 12,000 bridges are in danger of collapsing, as did Genoa’s Morandi bridge in 2018. If only light vehicles drove on it, this infrastructure would last much longer. This puts into perspective governments’ insistence on ‘greening’ the transport sector by targeting CO2 emissions alone, typically by promoting the use of electric vehicles (EVs). Public policies prioritising EVs do nothing to change the mass of roads or the issue of their maintenance – even if lorries were to run on clean air, massive quarrying would still be necessary. A similar argument plays out with regard to canals and ports, which have been constantly widened and deepened for decades to accommodate ever-larger oil tankers or container ships. The simple operation of these infrastructures, dimensioned for the circulation of commodities and not humans, requires permanent dredging of large volumes. The environmental problem of large transport infrastructure goes beyond the type of energy used: it is, at its root, free and globalised trade. ‘The material life cycle of motorways is relentless: constructing, maintaining, widening, thickening, repairing’ As both a material and ideological object, the motorway fixes certain political choices in the landscape. Millions of kilometres of road continue to be asphalted, widened and thickened around the world to favour cars and lorries. In France, more than 80 per cent of today’s sand and aggregate extraction is used for civil engineering works – the rest goes to buildings. Even if no more buildings, roads or other infrastructures were to be built, phenomenal quantities of sand and aggregates would still need to be extracted in order to maintain existing road networks. The material life cycle of motorways is relentless: constructing, maintaining, widening, thickening, repairing, adding new structures such as wildlife crossings, more maintaining.  Rising traffic levels are always deemed positive by governments for a country’s economy and development. As Christopher Wells shows in his 2014 book Car Country: An Environmental History, car use becomes necessary in an environment where everything has been planned for the car, from the location of public services and supermarkets to residential and office areas. Similarly, when an entire economy is based on globalised trade and just‑in‑time logistics (to the point that many service economies could not produce their own personal protective equipment in the midst of a pandemic), the lorry and the container ship become vital.  The final stage in the life of a piece of motorway infrastructure is dismantling. Like the other stages, this one is not a natural outcome but the fruit of political choices – which should be democratic – regarding how we wish to use existing roads. Dismantling, which is essential if we are to put an end to the global extractivism of sand and aggregates, does not mean destruction: if bicycles and pedestrians were to use them instead, maintenance would be minimal. This final stage requires a paradigm shift away from the eternal adaptation to increasing traffic. Replacing cars and lorries with public transport and rail freight would be a first step. But above all, a different political and spatial organisation of economic activities is necessary, and ultimately, an end to globalised, just-in-time trade and logistics. In 1978, a row of cars parked at a shopping centre in Connecticut was buried under a thick layer of gooey asphalt. The Ghost Parking Lot, one of the first projects by James Wines’ practice SITE, became a playground for skateboarders until it was removed in 2003. Images of this lumpy landscape serve as allegories of the damage caused by reliance on the automobile Credit: Project by SITE Lead image: Some road damage is beyond repair, as when a landslide caused a large chunk of the Gothenburg–Oslo motorway to collapse in 2023. Such dramatic events remind us of both the fragility of these seemingly robust infrastructures, and the damage that extensive construction does to the planet. Credit: Hanna Brunlöf Windell / TT / Shutterstock 2025-06-03 Reuben J Brown Share

From August 23rd - September 14th, 2023 (Kodiak, Alaska to Seward, Alaska), NOAA Ocean Exploration conducted Seascape Alaska 5: Gulf of Alaska Remotely Operated Vehicle Exploration and Mapping (EX2306), a remotely operated vehicle (ROV) and mapping expedition to the Gulf of Alaska on NOAA Ship Okeanos Explorer. Operations during this 23-day expedition included the completion of 19 successful remotely operated vehicle (ROV) dives, which were conducted in water depths ranging from 253.1 m to 4261.5 m for approximately 87 hours of bottom time and resulted in the collection of 383 samples. EX2306 also collected more than 28,000 sq. km of seafloor bathymetry and associated water column data using an EM 304 multibeam sonar. These images were captured on dives that were included in the source data for the How Little We’ve Seen: A Visual Coverage Estimate of the Deep Seafloor paper. They are good general reference imagery for the type of deep ocean observations captured by ROVs.(Image Courtesy of NOAA Ocean Exploration)NewsletterSign up for our email newsletter for the latest science newsKey Takeaways on Deep Ocean Exploration: We have visually explored less than 0.001 percent of the deep sea floor. To put that in perspective, 66 percent of the planet is deep ocean, and 99.999 percent of that ocean is unknown to us.Like ecosystems on land, the sea has a complex food web. Most of life in the sea depends on detritus, mostly phytoplankton, falling down from the surface, something called “marine snow.”Organisms that live in shallow water absorb carbon dioxide and take that with them when they sink to the bottom, often to be buried in deep-sea sediment. This is known as a carbon sink. It’s important to know the rates at which this happens, because this partially offsets the carbon we’re adding to the atmosphere. It’s been said many times that we know more about the moon than our own ocean. But is it really true that we’ve explored only a tiny portion of the sea?Katy Croff Bell wondered about this, too. Bell is an oceanographer and the founder of the Ocean Discovery League. She knew that Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution and others have been operating deep-sea submersibles like Alvin for decades, and there are facilities in 20 or so places around the world doing deep-sea research. But how much of the sea floor have these projects actually explored visually, not just mapped or sampled?Mapping the Deep OceanBell started looking up dive data and doing some math. “I stayed up way too late and came up with a very, very tiny number,” she recalls. She didn’t believe her own results and got everyone she could think of to double-check her math. But the results held. Over the next four years, she and her team compiled a database of dives from organizations and individuals around the world, and the data support her initial estimate. The number is indeed tiny. It turns out that we have visually explored less than 0.001 percent of the deep sea floor. To put that in perspective, 66 percent of the planet is deep ocean, and 99.999 percent of that ocean is unknown to us. Bell and her team published their findings in May 2025 in the journal Science Advances.Why Deep Sea Exploration MattersFrom July 14 - July 25, 2023, NOAA Ocean Exploration and partners conducted the third in a series of Seascape Alaska expeditions on NOAA Ship Okeanos Explorer. Over the course of 12 days at sea, the team conducted 6 full remotely operated vehicle (ROV) dives, mapped nearly 16,000 square kilometers (6,180 square miles), and collected a variety of biological and geological samples. When combined with numerous biological and geological observations, data from the Seascape Alaska 3: Aleutians Remotely Operated Vehicle Exploration and Mapping expedition will help to establish a baseline assessment of the ocean environment, increase understanding of marine life and habitats to inform management decisions, and increase public awareness of ocean issues. These images were captured on dives that were included in the source data for the How Little We’ve Seen: A Visual Coverage Estimate of the Deep Seafloor paper. They are good general reference imagery for the type of deep ocean observations captured by ROVs. (Image Courtesy of NOAA Ocean Exploration)About 26 percent of the ocean has been mapped with multi-beam sonar, explains Bell, and that gives us an idea of the shape of the ocean floor. But that’s like looking at a topographical map of an area you’re planning to hike. You know where the hills and valleys are, but you have no idea what kind of plants and animals you’re likely to encounter. If you want to understand the deep ocean, you need to get down there and see what kind of rocks and sediment are there, learn about the corals and sponges and other animals living there, she says. Samples of ocean life are helpful, but they do not give anything like a full picture of the life-forms in the deep sea, and more importantly, they tell you little about the complex ecosystems they’re a part of. But when you put mapping and sampling together with visual data, plus data about temperature, depths, and salinity, Bell says, you start to build a picture of what a given ocean habitat is like, and eventually, the role of that habitat in the global ocean system.The Deep-Sea "Snow" That Provides LifeFrom August 23rd - September 14th, 2023 (Kodiak, Alaska to Seward, Alaska), NOAA Ocean Exploration conducted Seascape Alaska 5: Gulf of Alaska Remotely Operated Vehicle Exploration and Mapping (EX2306), a remotely operated vehicle (ROV) and mapping expedition to the Gulf of Alaska on NOAA Ship Okeanos Explorer. Operations during this 23-day expedition included the completion of 19 successful remotely operated vehicle (ROV) dives, which were conducted in water depths ranging from 253.1 m to 4261.5 m for approximately 87 hours of bottom time and resulted in the collection of 383 samples. EX2306 also collected more than 28,000 sq. km of seafloor bathymetry and associated water column data using an EM 304 multibeam sonar. These images were captured on dives that were included in the source data for the How Little We’ve Seen: A Visual Coverage Estimate of the Deep Seafloor paper. They are good general reference imagery for the type of deep ocean observations captured by ROVs. (Image Courtesy of NOAA Ocean Exploration)Like ecosystems on land, the sea has a complex food web. Most of life in the sea depends on detritus, mostly phytoplankton, falling down from the surface, something called “marine snow,” explains James Douglass, an ecologist at Florida Gulf Coast University who studies life on the sea bed. This snow of nutrients is eaten by what are called suspension feeders, including filter feeders, such as sponges and corals, which have tentacles or basket-like appendages to trap the snow. Then other organisms, such as crabs and worms, feed on these creatures. The crabs and worms, in turn, are eaten by fish. Deposit feeders, such as the sea pig, a type of sea cucumber that “trundles across the bottom eating mud all day,” add to the already huge variety of life, Douglass says. The types of organisms you have in the deep sea depend on how deep it is, whether the sea floor is rocky or muddy, how quickly currents bring food, and whether there are underwater hot springs or cold seeps, or other sources of extra energy, says Douglass. So yes, it’s a complicated world down there, and there’s an awful lot we don’t yet know.Deep-Sea Ecosystems and Climate Change From July 14 - July 25, 2023, NOAA Ocean Exploration and partners conducted the third in a series of Seascape Alaska expeditions on NOAA Ship Okeanos Explorer. Over the course of 12 days at sea, the team conducted 6 full remotely operated vehicle (ROV) dives, mapped nearly 16,000 square kilometers (6,180 square miles), and collected a variety of biological and geological samples. When combined with numerous biological and geological observations, data from the Seascape Alaska 3: Aleutians Remotely Operated Vehicle Exploration and Mapping expedition will help to establish a baseline assessment of the ocean environment, increase understanding of marine life and habitats to inform management decisions, and increase public awareness of ocean issues. These images were captured on dives that were included in the source data for the How Little We’ve Seen: A Visual Coverage Estimate of the Deep Seafloor paper. They are good general reference imagery for the type of deep ocean observations captured by ROVs. (Image Courtesy of NOAA Ocean Exploration)Learning about ocean ecosystems is extremely valuable as basic science. But it has a more urgent purpose as well. Though we often think of the land and the sea as two completely separate places, they are intertwined in many significant ways. The ocean has absorbed 90 percent of the excess heat and 30 percent of the carbon dioxide released into the atmosphere by humans, says Bell. “But we don’t really have a good understanding of how this is going to impact deep-sea ecosystems, and those ecosystems play a vital role in the process of carbon sequestration,” she says.When it comes to climate change, the deep sea has a lot to teach us. In parts of the deep sea, Douglass explains, nothing disturbs the layers of sediment that are deposited slowly over the course of thousands, even millions of years. Geologists can interpret the layers and study the fossils preserved in them to get an understanding of what the conditions of the planet were like in the distant past, similar to the way climatologists study Antarctic ice cores. “We've learned things about how the ocean ecosystem changes when climate changes. We've learned that some worrying things can happen under certain climate conditions in the deep ocean,” Douglass says. “For example, the ocean can become less oxygenated, which would be a catastrophic threat to deep-sea life.”The Deep Ocean and Climate RegulationAnd, of course, there’s carbon dioxide. “The deep sea is not just a passive record of what happened to the climate; it’s involved in regulating climate,” Douglass says. Organisms that live in shallow water absorb carbon dioxide and take that with them when they sink to the bottom, often to be buried in deep-sea sediment. This is known as a carbon sink. Douglass says it’s very important to know the rates at which this happens, because this partially offsets the carbon we’re adding to the atmosphere. “Deep-sea carbon storage is a huge element in our understanding of the planet's ability to regulate climate,” he adds.If we are to truly understand the way the entire planet works, we need to understand the deep sea and its complex ecosystems as well as life on land and in the shallows. And to do that, Bell says, we need to get down there and look.Article SourcesOur writers at Discovermagazine.com use peer-reviewed studies and high-quality sources for our articles, and our editors review for scientific accuracy and editorial standards. Review the sources used below for this article:Science Advances. How little we’ve seen: A visual coverage estimate of the deep seafloorAvery Hurt is a freelance science journalist. In addition to writing for Discover, she writes regularly for a variety of outlets, both print and online, including National Geographic, Science News Explores, Medscape, and WebMD. She’s the author of Bullet With Your Name on It: What You Will Probably Die From and What You Can Do About It, Clerisy Press 2007, as well as several books for young readers. Avery got her start in journalism while attending university, writing for the school newspaper and editing the student non-fiction magazine. Though she writes about all areas of science, she is particularly interested in neuroscience, the science of consciousness, and AI–interests she developed while earning a degree in philosophy.1 free article leftWant More? Get unlimited access for as low as $1.99/monthSubscribeAlready a subscriber?Register or Log In1 free articleSubscribeWant more?Keep reading for as low as $1.99!SubscribeAlready a subscriber?Register or Log In

For a few months of the year, the Alaskan Arctic becomes flooded with birds. From shorebirds to waterfowl, these avians arrive in the spring to breed, nest, and raise their young, and to take advantage of the ample plants and prey (invertebrates and other animals) that thrive in Alaska’s short summers. They do it today, and they did it around 73 million years ago, too. Documenting the earliest evidence ever discovered of birds breeding and nesting in the Arctic, a new study in Science describes a collection of avian fossils and fossil fragments from around 73 million years ago. The collection comprises dozens of bones and teeth from adult and baby birds, and it shows that avians similar to modern shorebirds and waterfowl reproduced in the Arctic in the Cretaceous period, when dinosaurs still dominated the Alaskan terrain.“Birds have existed for 150 million years,” said Lauren Wilson, a study author and a student at Princeton University, who worked on the study while at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, according to a press release. “For half of the time they have existed, they have been nesting in the Arctic.”An Arctic NurseryA fossil fragment of a beak from a baby bird. (Image Credit: Photo by Pat Druckenmiller)Millions of birds travel to the Arctic, and they’ve been traveling there for millions of years. (In fact, some 250 species of birds migrate to Alaska for the spring and summer breeding and nesting seasons today.) But up until now, the earliest traces of birds reproducing in the Arctic dated back to around 47 million years ago, following the disappearance of the non-avian dinosaurs from the Arctic terrain. Now, the authors of the new study claim that birds and non-avian dinosaurs shared the Alaskan Arctic as far back as the Cretaceous period. Sifting bones and teeth from the sediment of Alaska’s Prince Creek Formation, the authors identified an assortment of Cretaceous fossils and fossil fragments, which resembled the remains of modern gulls, geese, ducks, and loons. That the specimens belonged to adult and baby birds suggests that these species were breeding, nesting, and raising their young in Alaska, more than 20 million years earlier than previously thought. “The Arctic is considered the nursery for modern birds,” said Pat Druckenmiller, another study author and a professor at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, according to a press release. “They have been doing this for 73 million years.”Finding Fossils, From Adult and Baby BirdsStudy authors Joe Keeney, Jim Baichtal, and Patrick Druckenmiller in Alaska. (Image Credit: Photo by Lauren Wilson) According to the authors, the bones and teeth of adult birds are often too fragile to survive in the fossil record, and those from baby birds are even more delicate. “Finding bird bones from the Cretaceous is already a very rare thing,” Wilson said in the release. “To find baby bird bones is almost unheard of. That is why these fossils are significant.” Though the majority of specimens that are taken from the Prince Creek Formation are large, the study authors opted to collect the smaller fossils and fossil fragments that most other studies miss. To do so, they inspected screened sediment with a microscope, which revealed their tiny finds. “We put Alaska on the map for fossil birds,” Druckenmiller said in the release. “It wasn’t on anyone’s radar.”Whether the find includes bones and teeth from the Neornithes — or the modern birds — is yet to be determined, though the authors stress that some of the fossils and fossil fragments feature skeletal and dental traits, such as fused leg bones and toothless jawbones, that are seen only in modern birds. “If they are part of the modern bird group, they would be the oldest such fossils ever found,” Druckenmiller said in the release. “But it would take us finding a partial or full skeleton to say for sure.”Article SourcesOur writers at Discovermagazine.com use peer-reviewed studies and high-quality sources for our articles, and our editors review for scientific accuracy and editorial standards. Review the sources used below for this article:Science. Arctic Bird Nesting Traces Back to the CretaceousSam Walters is a journalist covering archaeology, paleontology, ecology, and evolution for Discover, along with an assortment of other topics. Before joining the Discover team as an assistant editor in 2022, Sam studied journalism at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois.

The US is less than 250 years old, but some of its most important archaeological sites are older than the Viking seafarers, the Roman Empire, and the pyramids.Many help tell the story of how the first humans came to North America. It's still a mystery exactly how and when people arrived, though it's widely believed they crossed the Bering Strait at least 15,000 years ago."As we get further back in time, as we get populations that are smaller and smaller, finding these places and interpreting them becomes increasingly difficult," archaeologist Kenneth Feder told Business Insider. He's the author of "Ancient America: Fifty Archaeological Sites to See for Yourself."Some sites, like White Sands and Cooper's Ferry, have skeptics about the accuracy of their age. Still, they contribute to our understanding of some of the earliest Americans.Others are more recent and highlight the different cultures that were spreading around the country, with complex buildings and illuminating pictographs.Many of these places are open to the public, so you can see the US' ancient history for yourself. White Sands National Park, New Mexico Footprints at White Sands. National Park Service Prehistoric camels, mammoths, and giant sloths once roamed what's now New Mexico, when it was greener and damper.As the climate warmed around 11,000 years ago, the water of Lake Otero receded, revealing footprints of humans who lived among these extinct animals. Some even seemed to be following a sloth, offering a rare glimpse into ancient hunters' behavior.Recent research puts some of these fossilized footprints at between 21,000 and 23,000 years old. If the dates are accurate, the prints would predate other archaeological sites in the US, raising intriguing questions about who these people were and how they arrived in the Southwestern state."Where are they coming from?" Feder said. "They're not parachute dropping in New Mexico. They must have come from somewhere else, which means there are even older sites." Archaeologists simply haven't found them yet.While visitors can soak in the sight of the eponymous white sands, the footprints are currently off-limits. Meadowcroft Rockshelter, Pennsylvania The archeological dig at the Meadowcroft National Historic Site in 2013. AP Photo/Keith Srakocic In the 1970s, archaeologist James M. Adovasio sparked a controversy when he and his colleagues suggested stone tools and other artifacts found in southwestern Pennsylvania belonged to humans who had lived in the area 16,000 years ago.For decades, scientists had been finding evidence of human habitation that all seemed to be around 12,000 to 13,000 years old, belonging to the Clovis culture. They were long believed to have been the first to cross the Bering land bridge. Humans who arrived in North America before this group are often referred to as pre-Clovis.At the time, skeptics said that the radiocarbon dating evidence was flawed, AP News reported in 2016. In the years since, more sites that appear older than 13,000 years have been found across the US.Feder said Adovasio meticulously excavated the site, but there's still no clear consensus about the age of the oldest artifacts. Still, he said, "that site is absolutely a major, important, significant site." It helped archaeologists realize humans started arriving on the continent before the Clovis people.The dig itself is on display at the Heinz History Center, allowing visitors to see an excavation in person. Cooper's Ferry, Idaho Excavators at Cooper's Ferry in 2013. Loren Davis/Oregon State University One site that's added intriguing evidence to the pre-Clovis theory is located in western Idaho. Humans living there left stone tools and charred bones in a hearth between 14,000 and 16,000 years ago, according to radiocarbon dating. Other researchers put the dates closer to 11,500 years ago.These stemmed tools are different from the Clovis fluted projectiles, researchers wrote in a 2019 Science Advances paper.Some scientists think humans may have been traveling along the West Coast at this time, when huge ice sheets covered Alaska and Canada. "People using boats, using canoes could hop along that coast and end up in North America long before those glacial ice bodies decoupled," Feder said.Cooper's Ferry is located on traditional Nez Perce land, which the Bureau of Land Management holds in public ownership. Page-Ladson, Florida Divers search in the sediment at the Page-Ladson site. Texas A&M University via Getty Images In the early 1980s, former Navy SEAL Buddy Page alerted paleontologists and archaeologists to a sinkhole nicknamed "Booger Hole" in the Aucilla River. There, the researchers found mammoth and mastodon bones and stone tools.They also discovered a mastodon tusk with what appeared to be cut marks believed to be made by a tool. Other scientists have returned to the site more recently, bringing up more bones and tools. They used radiocarbon dating, which established the site as pre-Clovis."The stone tools and faunal remains at the site show that at 14,550 years ago, people knew how to find game, fresh water and material for making tools," Michael Waters, one of the researchers, said in a statement in 2016. "These people were well-adapted to this environment."Since the site is both underwater and on private property, it's not open to visitors. Paisley Caves, Oregon One of the Paisley Caves near Paisley, Oregon. AP Photo/Jeff Barnard Scientists study coprolites, or fossilized poop, to learn about the diets of long-dead animals. Mineralized waste can also reveal much more. In 2020, archaeologist Dennis Jenkins published a paper on coprolites from an Oregon cave that were over 14,000 years old.Radiocarbon dating gave the trace fossils' age, and genetic tests suggested they belonged to humans. Further analysis of coprolites added additional evidence that a group had been on the West Coast 1,000 years before the Clovis people arrived.Located in southcentral Oregon, the caves appear to be a piece of the puzzle indicating how humans spread throughout the continent thousands of years ago.The federal Bureau of Land Management owns the land where the caves are found, and they are listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Swan Point, Alaska Excavators working at the Swan Point site in June 2016. Charles Holmes/University of Alaska, Fairbanks Whenever people arrived in the Americas, they crossed from Siberia into Beringia, an area of land and sea between Russia and Canada and Alaska. Now it's covered in water, but there was once a land bridge connecting them.The site in Alaska with the oldest evidence of human habitation is Swan Point, in the state's eastern-central region. In addition to tools and hearths dating back 14,000 years, mammoth bones have been found there.Researchers think this area was a kind of seasonal hunting camp. As mammoths returned during certain times of the years, humans would track them and kill them, providing plentiful food for the hunter-gatherers.While Alaska may have a wealth of archaeological evidence of early Americans, it's also a difficult place to excavate. "Your digging season is very narrow, and it's expensive," Feder said. Some require a helicopter to reach, for example. Blackwater Draw, New Mexico A palaeontologist excavating a mammoth in Portales, New Mexico, circa 1960. Dick Kent/FPG/Archive Photos/Getty Images In 1929, 19-year-old James Ridgley Whiteman found mammoth bones along with fluted projectile points near Clovis, New Mexico. The Clovis people who made these tools were named for this site.Researchers studying the site began to realize the artifacts found at the site belonged to different cultures. Clovis points are typically larger than Folsom flutes, which were first found at another archaeological site in New Mexico.For decades after Whiteman's discovery, experts thought the Clovis people were the first to cross the Bering land bridge from Asia around 13,000 years ago. Estimates for humans' arrival is now thought to be at least 15,000 years ago.Eastern New Mexico University's Blackwater Draw Museum grants access to the archaeological site between April and October. Upper Sun River, Alaska Excavations at the Upward Sun River, Alaska. Ben Potter/University of Alaska, Fairbanks One reason the dates of human occupation in North America is so contentious is that very few ancient remains have been found. Among the oldest is a child from Upward Sun River, or Xaasaa Na', in Central Alaska.Archaeologists found the bones of the child in 2013. Local indigenous groups refer to her as Xach'itee'aanenh t'eede gay, or Sunrise Girl-Child. Genetic testing revealed the 11,300-year-old infant belonged to a previously unknown Native American population, the Ancient Beringians.Based on the child's genetic information, researchers learned that she was related to modern Native Americans but not directly. Their common ancestors started becoming genetically isolated 25,000 years ago before dividing into two groups after a few thousand years: the Ancient Berignians and the ancestors of modern Native Americans.According to this research, it's possible humans reached Alaska roughly 20,000 years ago. Poverty Point National Monument, Louisiana Poverty Point in Louisiana. National Park Service Stretching over 80 feet long and 5 feet tall, the rows of curved mounds of Poverty Point are a marvel when viewed from above. Over 3,000 years ago, hunter-gatherers constructed them out of tons of soil. Scientists aren't sure exactly why people built them, whether they were ceremonial or a display of status.The artifacts various groups left behind indicate the site was used off and on for hundreds of years and was a meeting point for trading. People brought tools and rocks from as far as 800 miles away. Remains of deer, fish, frogs, alligators, nuts, grapes, and other food have given archaeologists insights into their diets and daily lives.You can see the World Heritage Site for yourself year-round. Horseshoe Canyon, Utah The Great Gallery in Horseshoe Canyon. Neal Herbert/National Park Service Though remote, the multicolored walls of Horseshoe Canyon have long attracted visitors. Some of its artifacts date back to between 9,000 and 7,000 BCE, but its pictographs are more recent. Some tests date certain sections to around 2,000 to 900 years ago.The four galleries contain life-sized images of anthropomorphic figures and animals in what's known as the Barrier Canyon style. Much of this art is found in Utah, produced by the Desert Archaic culture.The pictographs may have spiritual and practical significance but also help capture a time when groups were meeting and mixing, according to the Natural History Museum of Utah.It's a difficult trek to get to the pictographs (and the NPS warns it can be dangerously hot in summer) but are amazing to view in person, Feder said. "These are creative geniuses," he said of the artists. Canyon de Chelly, Arizona The Antelope House at Canyon de Chelly National Monument. Michael Denson/National Park Service Situated in the Navajo Nation, Canyon de Chelly has gorgeous desert views and thousands of years of human history. Centuries ago, Ancestral Pueblo and Hopi groups planted crops, created pictographs, and built cliff dwellings.Over 900 years ago, Puebloan people constructed the White House, named for the hue of its clay. Its upper floors sit on a sandstone cliff, with a sheer drop outside the windows.Navajo people, also known as Diné, still live in Canyon de Chelly. Diné journalist Alastair Lee Bitsóí recently wrote about visiting some of the sacred and taboo areas. They include Tsé Yaa Kin, where archaeologists found human remains.In the 1860s, the US government forced 8,000 Navajo to relocate to Fort Sumner in New Mexico. The deadly journey is known as the "Long Walk." Eventually, they were able to return, though their homes and crops were destroyed.A hike to the White House is the only one open to the public without a Navajo guide or NPS ranger. Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado Visitors line up at Mesa Verde National Park. Shutterstock/Don Mammoser In the early 1900s, two women formed the Colorado Cliff Dwelling Association, hoping to preserve the ruins in the state's southwestern region. A few years later, President Theodore Roosevelt signed a bill designating Mesa Verde as the first national park meant to "preserve the works of man."Mesa Verde National Park holds hundreds of dwellings, including the sprawling Cliff Palace. It has over 100 rooms and nearly two dozen kivas, or ceremonial spaces.Using dendrochronology, or tree-ring dating, archaeologists learned when Ancestral Pueblo people built some of these structures and that they migrated out of the area by the 1300s.Feder said it's his favorite archaeological site he's visited. "You don't want to leave because you can't believe it's real," he said.Tourists can view many of these dwellings from the road, but some are also accessible after a bit of a hike. Some require extra tickets and can get crowded, Feder said. Cahokia, Illinois A mound at Cahokia in Illinois. Matt Gush/Shutterstock Cahokia has been called one of North America's first cities. Not far from present-day St. Louis, an estimated 10,000 to 20,000 people lived in dense settlements roughly 1,000 years ago. Important buildings sat atop large mounds, which the Mississippians built by hand, The Guardian reported.At the time, it was thriving with hunters, farmers, and artisans. "It's an agricultural civilization," Feder said. "It's a place where raw materials from a thousand miles away are coming in." Researchers have also found mass graves, potentially from human sacrifices.The inhabitants built circles of posts, which one archaeologist later referred to as "woodhenges," as a kind of calendar. At the solstices, the sun would rise or set aligned with different mounds.After a few hundred years, Cahokia's population declined and disappeared by 1350. Its largest mound remains, and some aspects have been reconstructed.While Cahokia is typically open to the public, parts are currently closed for renovations. Montezuma Castle, Arizona Montezuma Castle, a cliff dwelling, in Arizona. MyLoupe/Universal Images Group via Getty Images Perched on a limestone cliff in Camp Verde, Arizona, this site is an apartment, not a castle, and is unrelated to the Aztec ruler Montezuma.The Sinagua people engineered the five-story, 20-room building around 1100. It curves to follow the natural line of the cliff, which would have been more difficult than simply making a straight building, Feder said."These people were architects," he said. "They had a sense of beauty."The inhabitants were also practical, figuring out irrigation systems and construction techniques, like thick walls and shady spots, to help them survive the hot, dry climate.Feder said the dwelling is fairly accessible, with a short walk along a trail to view it, though visitors can't go inside the building itself.

smelly shield Penguin poop may help preserve Antarctic climate Ammonia aerosols from penguin guano likely play a part in the formation of heat-shielding clouds. Bob Berwyn, Inside Climate News – May 24, 2025 7:07 am | 4 Credit: Getty Credit: Getty Story text Size Small Standard Large Width * Standard Wide Links Standard Orange * Subscribers only   Learn more This article originally appeared on Inside Climate News, a nonprofit, non-partisan news organization that covers climate, energy, and the environment. Sign up for their newsletter here. New research shows that penguin guano in Antarctica is an important source of ammonia aerosol particles that help drive the formation and persistence of low clouds, which cool the climate by reflecting some incoming sunlight back to space. The findings reinforce the growing awareness that Earth’s intricate web of life plays a significant role in shaping the planetary climate. Even at the small levels measured, the ammonia particles from the guano interact with sulfur-based aerosols from ocean algae to start a chemical chain reaction that forms billions of tiny particles that serve as nuclei for water vapor droplets. The low marine clouds that often cover big tracts of the Southern Ocean around Antarctica are a wild card in the climate system because scientists don’t fully understand how they will react to human-caused heating of the atmosphere and oceans. One recent study suggested that the big increase in the annual global temperature during 2023 and 2024 that has continued into this year was caused in part by a reduction of that cloud cover. “I’m constantly surprised at the depth of how one small change affects everything else,” said Matthew Boyer, a coauthor of the new study and an atmospheric scientist at the University of Helsinki’s Institute for Atmospheric and Earth System Research. “This really does show that there is a deep connection between ecosystem processes and the climate. And really, it’s the synergy between what’s coming from the oceans, from the sulfur-producing species, and then the ammonia coming from the penguins.” Climate survivors Aquatic penguins evolved from flying birds about 60 million years ago, shortly after the age of dinosaurs, and have persisted through multiple, slow, natural cycles of ice ages and warmer interglacial eras, surviving climate extremes by migrating to and from pockets of suitable habitat, called climate refugia, said Rose Foster-Dyer, a marine and polar ecologist with the University of Canterbury in New Zealand. A 2018 study that analyzed the remains of an ancient “super colony” of the birds suggests there may have been a “penguin optimum” climate window between about 4,000 and 2,000 years ago, at least for some species in some parts of Antarctica, she said. Various penguin species have adapted to different habitat niches and this will face different impacts caused by human-caused warming, she said. Foster-Dyer has recently done penguin research around the Ross Sea, and said that climate change could open more areas for land-breeding Adélie penguins, which don’t breed on ice like some other species. “There’s evidence that this whole area used to have many more colonies … which could possibly be repopulated in the future,” she said. She is also more optimistic than some scientists about the future for emperor penguins, the largest species of the group, she added. “They breed on fast ice, and there’s a lot of publications coming out about how the populations might be declining and their habitat is hugely threatened,” she said. “But they’ve lived through so many different cycles of the climate, so I think they’re more adaptable than people currently give them credit for.” In total, about 20 million breeding pairs of penguins nest in vast colonies all around the frozen continent. Some of the largest colonies, with up to 1 million breeding pairs, can cover several square miles.There aren’t any solid estimates for the total amount of guano produced by the flightless birds annually, but some studies have found that individual colonies can produce several hundred tons. Several new penguin colonies were discovered recently when their droppings were spotted in detailed satellite images. A few penguin colonies have grown recently while others appear to be shrinking, but in general, their habitat is considered threatened by warming and changing ice conditions, which affects their food supplies. The speed of human-caused warming, for which there is no precedent in paleoclimate records, may exacerbate the threat to penguins, which evolve slowly compared to many other species, Foster-Dyer said. “Everything’s changing at such a fast rate, it’s really hard to say much about anything,” she said. Recent research has shown how other types of marine life are also important to the global climate system. Nutrients from bird droppings help fertilize blooms of oxygen-producing plankton, and huge swarms of fish that live in the middle layers of the ocean cycle carbon vertically through the water, ultimately depositing it in a generally stable sediment layer on the seafloor. Tricky measurements Boyer said the new research started as a follow-up project to other studies of atmospheric chemistry in the same area, near the Argentine Marambio Base on an island along the Antarctic Peninsula. Observations by other teams suggested it could be worth specifically trying to look at ammonia, he said. Boyer and the other scientists set up specialized equipment to measure the concentration of ammonia in the air from January to March 2023. They found that, when the wind blew from the direction of a colony of about 60,000 Adélie penguins about 5 miles away, the ammonia concentration increased to as high as 13.5 parts per billion—more than 1,000 times higher than the background reading. Even after the penguins migrated from the area toward the end of February, the ammonia concentration was still more than 100 times as high as the background level. “We have one instrument that we use in the study to give us the chemistry of gases as they’re actually clustering together,” he said. “In general, ammonia in the atmosphere is not well-measured because it’s really difficult to measure, especially if you want to measure at a very high sensitivity, if you have low concentrations like in Antarctica,” he said. Penguin-scented winds The goal was to determine where the ammonia is coming from, including testing a previous hypothesis that the ocean surface could be the source, he said. But the size of the penguin colonies made them the most likely source. “It’s well known that sea birds give off ammonia. You can smell them. The birds stink,” he said. “But we didn’t know how much there was. So what we did with this study was to quantify ammonia and to quantify its impact on the cloud formation process.” The scientists had to wait until the wind blew from the penguin colony toward the research station. “If we’re lucky, the wind blows from that direction and not from the direction of the power generator,” he said. “And we were lucky enough that we had one specific event where the winds from the penguin colony persisted long enough that we were actually able to track the growth of the particles. You could be there for a year, and it might not happen.” The ammonia from the guano does not form the particles but supercharges the process that does, Boyer said. “It’s really the dimethyl sulfide from phytoplankton that gives off the sulfur,” he said. “The ammonia enhances the formation rate of particles. Without ammonia, sulfuric acid can form new particles, but with ammonia, it’s 1,000 times faster, and sometimes even more, so we’re talking up to four orders of magnitude faster because of the guano.” This is important in Antarctica specifically because there are not many other sources of particles, such as pollution or emissions from trees, he added. “So the strength of the source matters in terms of its climate effect over time,” he said. “And if the source changes, it’s going to change the climate effect.” It will take more research to determine if penguin guano has a net cooling effect on the climate. But in general, he said, if the particles transport out to sea and contribute to cloud formation, they will have a cooling effect. “What’s also interesting,” he said, “is if the clouds are over ice surfaces, it could actually lead to warming because the clouds are less reflective than the ice beneath.” In that case, the clouds could actually reduce the amount of heat that brighter ice would otherwise reflect away from the planet. The study did not try to measure that effect, but it could be an important subject for future research, he added. The guano effect lingers even after the birds leave the breeding areas. A month after they were gone, Boyer said ammonia levels in the air were still 1,000 times higher than the baseline. “The emission of ammonia is a temperature-dependent process, so it’s likely that once wintertime comes, the ammonia gets frozen in,” he said. “But even before the penguins come back, I would hypothesize that as the temperature warms, the guano starts to emit ammonia again. And the penguins move all around the coast, so it’s possible they’re just fertilizing an entire coast with ammonia.” Bob Berwyn, Inside Climate News 4 Comments

Hot water is like internet connectivity for most Verge readers: you just expect it to be there. But that’s unlikely to be the case this summer when tent camping at a music festival or road-tripping into the great unknown. That’s where BougeRV’s battery-powered shower comes in. The $310 “Portable Propane Outdoor Camping Water Heater” from BougeRV is not only optimized for search engine discovery, it also delivers a luxurious spray of hot steaming water to the unwashed, be they human, canine, or stubborn pots and pans. Charge up the battery, attach a propane canister, drop the pump into a jug of water, and you’re ready to get sudsing.It’s so useful and flexible that I’ve ditched my plans to install a permanent shower cabin and expensive hot water system inside my adventure van, even if I don’t completely trust it.8Verge Score$310The GoodBattery-powered portabilityTemperature controlAdjustable flow to save waterLots of safety featuresThe BadLots of hoses and cables to snagWeak shower head holderNo bag to carry all the accessoriesLongevity concerns$310 at BougeRVHow we rate and review productsMy current portable shower consists of an 11-liter water bag, a manual foot pump, and a spray nozzle. To make it hot, I have to heat water on the stove or hang the bag in the sun for several hours, yet it still costs over $150. For $310, the BougeRV heated shower seems like a bargain.The BougeRV system can produce a maximum heat output of 20,500 BTUs — about half of a typical residential gas water heater. It measures 15.75 x 6.7 x 14.57 inches (40 x 17 x 31cm) and weighs 13.2 pounds (6.21kg), making it compact and fairly lightweight with two big handles for easy carry. The hoses and cabling make it a little unwieldy — capable of chaos inside a small space unless handled with care.Assembly starts with screwing in an easy to find one pound (454g) propane canister that attaches at the rear of the unit. That’s the size BougeRV recommends, but you wouldn’t be the first to instead run a hose from your RV’s existing propane tank to the pressure regulator on the water heater. Two quick-connect water hoses — labeled blue and red for idiot-proof attachment — route the water from your chosen receptacle, through that gas furnace, and out through the showerhead. The long 2.5m (8.2 feet) shower hose allows for flexible placement of the heater.The small water pump measures just 2.24 inches (5.7cm) across, so it easily fits through the opening of standard jerry cans. The pump is electrically powered by the BougeRV unit, which is powered by its rechargeable battery, an AC wall jack, or 12V adapter that plugs into the cigarette jack of your vehicle or solar generator.My outdoor shower using a standard jerry can for water. Magnets hold the towel in place and I’d buy a magnetic shower head holder to complete the setup. Photo by Thomas Ricker / The VergeCan place the BougeRV system on my sliding tray for a gear cleaning station. A long press on the pump button bypasses the heater to save gas. Photo by Thomas Ricker / The VergeA makeshift outdoor sink. The included holder is too weak to hold the shower head in more extreme positions. Photo by Thomas Ricker / The VergeHank hates getting hosed off with cold water but enjoyed this lush heated rinse. (He rolled in dirt immediately after.) Photo by Thomas Ricker / The VergeThe 2500mAh / 12V (30Wh) integrated Lithium-ion battery takes about three hours to charge from the included charger. A full battery and one-pound (454g) canister of liquid propane gas can pump out about an hour’s worth of hot water before both run dry. The shower’s gas consumption rate is 20MJ/h. Alternatively, you can save gas with a long press on the pump button to put the shower into cold water mode — ideal for rinsing off your mountain bike, hiking shoes, or wet suit, for example.The dial on the front of the heater controls the size of the flame. I did a handful of tests, starting with water measuring between 13 and 16 degrees Celsius (55–61 degrees Fahrenheit) according to the display on the BougeRV water heater. With the dial turned all the way to the left, the water pouring from the shower head rose to 23–25C (73–77F) after just a few seconds. Turned all the way to the right, the temperature maxed out at a steamy 34–41C (93–105F) in about 30 seconds.Recycling the water can make it even hotter, if you dareRecycling the water can make it even hotter, if you dare. After two or three cycles on max, the heater boosted the temperature above 51C (124F) before the unit shut down with an error, by design. It’s not meant to exceed an average water temperature above 50C (122F). A simple on/off reset the E6 error.Water flow is between 2.2 and 3 liters per minute — well below what you can expect from a 9 to 12 L/min flow of a modern home shower. That’s still acceptable, in my opinion, and far superior to nothing, which is the typical alternative when camping away from home. The shower head has a rocker switch to toggle between hardish, mixed, and soft water flow rates as well as an on/off limiter button to help conserve water between lathers.It’s surprisingly quiet even with the pump turned on. There’s some rapid clicking to ignite the gas (followed by a whoosh of flame) whenever the flow of water returns, and the pump produces a low-level hum that’s quickly drowned out by the sound of spraying water.The water heater is also protected from tilts, bumps, and an empty water source. When I leaned my review unit over about 30 degrees, the unit shut off. It also shut off automatically after two minutes of trying to pump from an empty bucket. A master override on/off switch on the button prevents the unit from turning on accidentally if the on/off button on the front is bumped during transport or storage.I’m impressed by BougeRV’s water heater, but I’m a little concerned about its durability over time. After using it on the beach on a windy day, I ran into trouble once I returned inside: the heater didn’t heat and the water was reduced to a trickle out of the showerhead. It’s possible that some sediment trapped in the lines reduced the flow rate below the 1.2L/min required for ignition. Nevertheless, the issue was resolved after a few minutes of fiddling with the hoses and filters, and turning the unit on and off again. BougeRV offers a two-year warranty and says the water heater is rated at IPX4. So while it’s resistant to splashing water, there’s no assurance offered against dust and blowing sand. I do have a few other gripes. Those hoses can be a tripping and snagging hazard, and the plastic clip meant to hold the showerhead to one of the lifting handles is too weak to keep it from rotating and spraying your surroundings. I also wish BougeRV bundled the heater with an accessory bag to carry all the power adapters and hoses. And when putting the device away, you have to tip it forward to drain all the collected water from the inlet and outlet — there’s no automatic expulsion mechanism.But really, these are trivial issues for what the unit does at this price.1/8A cold water option is great for cleaning gear.Prior to this review, I had been in the late planning stages of having a shower cabin, water pump, gas heater, extra-large water tank, and all necessary plumbing installed in my Sprinter van. Total cost: about $4,000. I’m now convinced that a portable system like what BougeRV offers is a better option. Why pay so much for something so permanent that’s only used a few minutes each week, for maybe half the year?Instead, BougeRV’s $310 portable water heater can function as an outdoor shower during the summer months or be moved inside (with ventilation) when coupled with a portable shower curtain and basin, all for less than $600. That sounds like a better use of my money, and probably yours if you’re an aspiring vanlifer.And when the van is parked, I can bring those hot (or cold) jets of water anywhere my adventures might take me: to clean up after mountain biking in the muddy forest or kitesurfing in the salty sea, to wash the dog outside after rolling in shit again, or to take a refreshing shower during a sweaty four-day music festival.A near-identical water heater is sold under the Ranien and Camplux brands, but those have larger 4000mAh (48Wh) batteries and list for between $349 and $399. So it might pay to shop around.Photos by Thomas Ricker / The VergeSee More:

A cataclysmic asteroid collision may not sound like the starting place for life. But 66 million years ago, the Chicxulub impactor that wiped out the dinosaurs and much of the Cretaceous period’s fauna also kick-started a hydrothermal system that became a hotbed for life to recover in the local area. That’s the finding from a recent paper published in Nature Communications. Chicxulub Impact and Rapid RecoveryThe impact itself was truly a catastrophe, says Philippe Claeys, Chair of the Large Research Group AMGC at Vrije Universiteit Brussel and a co-author on the paper. When the asteroid – estimated at 10 to 15 kilometers [about 6 miles to 9 miles] in diameter – slammed into the earth it sent vast amounts of energy into the atmosphere, resulting in a massive cloud plume that lead to the collapse of photosynthesis, large-scale cooling, and the demise of up to 70 percent of life on earth, including the dinosaurs.  That extended to the oceans. “At least for 500,000 years, there's good evidence to show that the world's oceans were not functioning exactly as modern or Cretaceous oceans were,” Claeys says.Past research found that within decades, the waters around the site recovered quickly. This recent paper suggests that it is because the massive impact and the resultant melt sheet created a hydrothermal system that funneled hot water and nutrients to the surrounding area, enabling this surprisingly quick comeback.“What is interesting in this new paper is that we teamed up with geochemists, crater specialists, and micropalaeontologists to look at the effect on the biosphere, on the micro plankton within the region surrounding the crater in the Gulf of Mexico,” Claeys says. “The conclusion, that was a little bit surprising, is that the recovery of life seems to be accelerated compared to the rest of the oceans.”Read More: Two Asteroids May Have Wiped Out The DinosaursHydrothermal System Funneled Nutrients That multi-disciplinary team traced levels of osmium – an element found in asteroids like the Chicxulub impactor – in sediments taken from core samples in the crater. Sean Gulick, a research professor at The University of Texas at Austin’s Jackson School of Geosciences, and a co-author on the study, was part of a 2016 drill team that took core samples from the crater. These samples were vital to these recent findings.He explains that in this instance, osmium acts as a “tracer for all sorts of nutrients that might be enriching the oceans above.” That showed that the hydrothermal system following the collision was likely funneling nutrients to the ocean above for at least 700,000 years.“We do know that an asteroid impact with all of this energy, if it's large enough, can cause a mass extinction event globally, because of all the atmospheric effects,” Gulick says. “But it also turns out to be beneficial to life, at least locally.”Even though the Chicxulub impact resulted in a “kiss of death for dinosaurs,” it also acted as a “cradle for life,” Gulick says. Possibility of Life on Other Planets Their research also showed that during the time the hydrothermal system functioned, the type of marine life mainly comprised of plankton species adapted to high-nutrient environments. This shifted to species that thrive in low-nutrient environments over time.In Gulick’s view, their findings open up the possibility of a mechanism to kick-start life on other planets. “Everything out there gets smacked with objects flying around. From the original creation of the planets and from collisions in the asteroid belt and everything else,” Gulick says. “Every one of those planets has a way to have their surface changed by impact cratering that then reorganizes things, brings things to the surface, and adds heat.”  As long as there are fluids or ice that could result in a hydrothermal system, Gulick adds. “So, if this is a viable mechanism to get life going, then that means it's entirely possible to have life on a lot of different planets.”Read More: Did a Dust Plume Kill the Dinosaurs?Article SourcesOur writers at Discovermagazine.com use peer-reviewed studies and high-quality sources for our articles, and our editors review for scientific accuracy and editorial standards. Review the sources used below for this articleUniversity of Texas Institute of Geophysics. Life Recovered Rapidly at Site of Dino-Killing Asteroid. A Hydrothermal System May Have Helped.University of Texas Geosciences. Drilling into Dino Doomsday Sean Mowbray is a freelance writer based in Scotland. He covers the environment, archaeology, and general science topics. His work has also appeared in outlets such as Mongabay, New Scientist, Hakai Magazine, Ancient History Magazine, and others.

This Deposit of ‘Weird’ Cretaceous Amber Could Reveal Hints to Long-Forgotten Tsunamis in Japan A new study highlights the potential of amber fossils to capture evidence of powerful, prehistoric ocean waves A tsunami might have occured some 115 million years ago, near where deposits of Cretaceous amber were found in Japan. Wikimedia Commons under CC0 1.0 Scientists in Japan have uncovered amber deposits that may hold elusive evidence of tsunamis that occurred between 114 million and 116 million years ago. Their findings were published in the journal Scientific Reports last week. The researchers stumbled upon the amber—fossilized tree resin—by chance while collecting rocks from a sand mine in Hokkaido, an island in northern Japan. The deposit would have been on the seafloor when it was formed during the Cretaceous period. “We found a weird form of amber,” says lead author Aya Kubota, a geologist at the National Institute of Advanced Industrial Science and Technology in Japan, to Katherine Kornei at Science News. The scientists analyzed the resin with a technique called fluorescence imaging, in which they snapped photos of the remains under ultraviolet light. This helped them see how the amber was separated by layers of dark sediment, creating shapes known as “flame structures.” The unusual pattern arises when soft amber deforms before completely hardening. “Generally, they will form when a denser layer gets deposited on top of a softer layer,” says Carrie Garrison-Laney, a geologist at Washington Sea Grant who was not involved in the study, to Science News. The researchers suggest this is evidence that the resin rapidly traveled from land while it was still malleable and solidified underwater. A tsunami could be what swept the trees from land to the ocean so quickly, the study authors write. If true, this could offer scientists a potential new technique for finding prehistoric tsunamis. “Identifying tsunamis is generally challenging,” Kubota explains to Live Science’s Olivia Ferrari in an email. Tsunami deposits are easily eroded by the environment, and they can also be hard to distinguish from deposits caused by other storms. But in this case, “by combining detailed field observations with the internal structures of amber, we were able to conclude that the most plausible cause was tsunamis.” Cretaceous amber deposits (a, b, d, e) and fossilized driftwood (c) examined in the study Kubota, Aya et al., Scientific Reports, 2025, under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 Other evidence also bolsters the researchers’ conclusion: A massive, nearby landslide offers a sign that an earthquake may have occurred around the same time the amber formed, and displaced mud and tree trunks were found in the same sediments—all signs of a violent tsunami. The trunks didn’t show any signs of erosion by shallow water-dwelling marine creatures, suggesting they were carried quickly out to sea. The vegetation found in the fossil deposit suggests multiple tsunamis occurred within the span of two million years, reports Hannah Richter for Science. But Garrison-Laney tells Science News that more evidence is needed to prove the amber is linked to a tsunami. She’s not sure the Cretaceous tree resin would have stayed soft once it hit the cold ocean water. “That seems like a stretch to me,” she tells the publication, adding that research on more of the area’s amber deposit will be needed to confirm the findings. With further study, scientists could use amber-rich sediments as a way to identify tsunamis throughout history. “Resin offers a rare, time-sensitive snapshot of depositional processes,” Kubota tells Live Science. Previously, scientists have found tiny crustaceans, prehistoric mollusks and even hell ants encased in the orangey resin, a window into worlds past. Now, “the emerging concept of ‘amber sedimentology’ holds exciting potential to provide unique insights into sedimentological processes,” Kubota adds to Live Science. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday. More about: Fossils Japan New Research Oceans Tsunami

Last Thursday, my co-instructor and I showed up to the Data Visualization course we teach at the University of Washington with a bag of rocks. The bag consisted of a fairly diverse collection that I myself put together across a set of treks in various regions of California. Our students are fairly used to the quirky, hands-on activities we ask them to participate in most classes, but this seemed a bit out there, even for us. In this article, I’ll focus on the following two points, which collectively speak to the importance of domain-specific integration into data science Education: A description of the actual task we had students do with these rocks. A deep dive into the discussion that followed—which largely focused on the point of making them do this and its deeper connections to data science. What to Do with a Bunch of Rocks? Once the students were seated in their respective groups, we asked them to do the following: Choose two rocks per group. Attempt to formally identify the rocks without the aid of any internet or mobile apps. At this point, most students made it as far as determining if a rock appeared to be igneous, sedimentary, or metamorphic. Refine their initial guesses by now taking advantage of their electronic resources. Students now got much more specific, identifying scoria, slate, red jasper, gneiss, and a host of other rocks in the collection. Design and implement a chart (using software or on paper) that either compared the qualities of their rocks or displayed engaging information about one of them. They were encouraged to search online for supporting data, such as hardness, mineral makeup, potential uses, and so on. Once finished, they submitted their visualizations to us, and we proceeded with a class discussion. What Do Rocks Have to Do With Data Science? Quite a bit, as it happens. As we went around the room, students shared a host of insights about their various rocks. In many cases, the discussion focused on the utility of a particular visual approach students had taken. For example, one group chose to compare their two rocks via a data table that included various points of relevant information. This led to a discussion on how data tables are in fact a type of data visualization, especially useful in two situations: When you have a limited amount of data When it is important that the user be able to pick out precise pieces of data for their purposes Other conversations revolved around the effectiveness of area as an encoding, the particularities of color scales, and so on. All standard discussions for a data visualization course. Once we finished this initial conversation, I posed a more involved question for the class: “So far, we’ve talked about standard visual elements of a chart. We could have discussed these with any kind of data. So why go to the trouble of bringing a giant bag of rocks to the class and asking you to identify them? What’s the point?” The class stared blankly. The moment dragged. Then, one student hesitantly raised his hand. “Um … so we can get comfortable working with unfamiliar domains, or something like that?” Precisely! We’d mentioned this point sparingly to the students before, but this activity really drives the point home. As eventual designers and engineers working in data visualization—and, more broadly, in data science, it is essential for these students to know how to work with domains they may be unfamiliar with. The same goes for you if you are reading this article. As the data expert on a team, you will rarely also be the domain expert, and you must adjust to the data given to you. Sometimes quite quickly. In a previous article, “The Three Building Blocks of Data Science,” I dove into this point in greater detail. The first two building blocks—statistics and computer science—are incredibly important. That said, the actual data comes from the domain. Without the domain, there would be no need for data science. As a data scientist, while you will have the support of a domain expert, you will still need to design solutions and write code corresponding to data you may be deeply unfamiliar with. As such, it is incredibly important to gain exposure to this reality as part of one’s data science education. My co-instructor and I teach in a design and engineering department, with students largely interested in pursuing fields such as UI/UX research and data engineering. We chose to make them work with rocks precisely because we knew they were unlikely to know too much about them (at least at the level of detail needed) beforehand. And that lack of prior knowledge made all the difference. Final Thoughts If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you’re training to be a data scientist, or interested in doing so. Perhaps you already are one and are just rounding out your knowledge. Whatever your position may be, my point remains the same: Every chance you get, expose yourself to new data. By its very nature, literally every field, every discipline, every topic known to man has some kind of data, and an associated group of people interested in gaining insights about it. And the person they turn to for help might just be you. The post I Teach Data Viz with a Bag of Rocks appeared first on Towards Data Science.