Trinitite

OK, I like 50's retro stuff. My good friend Deborah has a new 50's retro painting "Kissing the Blue Marble" , and she's going to explore the genre further. Then there was this photo, which came from this popular blog. I remember the classic film short, "The Valley Where the Giant Mushrooms Grow" (can't find a reference for that), which was featured at the 1975 Tech Weatherman Film Festival (if memory serves).

Deborah asked whether I had any Trinitite in my rock collection. Indeed so! I went to Trinity Site once. They used to give tours just once or twice a year (they may still do so). I think it was 1975. They made an announcement: "under no circumstances should you pick up the Trinitite." But I couldn't just ignore it, because what were the odds of me ever returning? So I picked up the Trinitite, slipped it into my socks, felt the pebbles roll under my sole, and thenceforth hobbled around in great pain as I toured the site. Then I noticed that EVERYONE was picking up the Trinitite, military folks too, and putting it in their pockets. So I retrieved the pebbles and put them in my pockets too. Using a Geiger counter, we were later able to compare the radioactivity of the Trinitite with naturally-occurring Columbite ore from a mine we high-graded at the famed Harding Pegmatite in northern NM, near Dixon. The naturally-occurring ore was much more radioactive than the Trinitite. I still have the Trinitite in my basement (I try to keep all radioactive substances out of my socks and pockets these days).

I'm tempted to bring a few pieces on my next visit to Deborah in AZ. I'm wondering how good airport security is, and whether something that is slightly radioactive will be detected. The Columbite has a better chance of getting picked up, because its more robust, but I bet I can get both through.

I would like to have to have been in the tank they sent to ground-zero about an hour after the blast, when the whole ground-surface was covered with a patina of Trinitite (the greenish tint is so mild that you can barely detect it in the pieces I have - you need a lot, like, acres, to really see it - and the patina has long been shattered by hard-charging vehicles and visitors pocketing chunks). I remember (1975) that there was a change in vegetation as one approached the site, changing from grass to sage scrub as one got closer to the site. I was impressed that the vegetation was as robust as it was, after being annihilated 30 years before. The Jornada del Muerto is just about the driest, least habitable part of NM, the bane of the Spaniards, yet growth rates were still large enough to give a good approximation to a natural landscape.