A really, really long time ago

by Susan Anderson
Tuesday, July 22, 2008 12:56 PM MDT

If you want a short-term prediction, stick with the radio weather forecast or go online.

If you want a medium take on things, read a weekly paper.

But if you really want the long view, talk to a geologist.

I was already feeling aware of how old things are after I visited the museum in Italy for the 5,300-year-old frozen, mummified man found in the Alps.

Known as Otzi, he was a modern guy, in some ways, making 5,300 years ago seem pretty recent. He had tattoos on what may be acupuncture sites, possibly to treat his arthritis and stomach ailments.

He wore a striped coat, made of different colors of leather carefully stitched together. It’s a level of knowledge, not to mention style, that I wasn’t expecting from someone we might have considered a caveman.

His shoes are so impressive and practical that there are reports that they are being copied and manufactured for sale today. “Walk in the iceman’s steps” was the headline about the shoes.

Amazingly (to me), the shoes were waterproof, made with bearskin for the soles, deer hide on the top and stuffed with grass to act as socks.

They had netting made of bark that made them a lot like modern snowshoes. I’d buy a pair of those, wouldn’t you?

The visit to Otzi’s museum came after plenty of moments in Italy, where the history and age of things are striking.

Those were the times when you casually strolled by a church and read the plaque indicating that it was here when Michelangelo was alive, 500 years ago. And it was old then.

I’m kind of proud of living in one of the older homes in Casper, one that is nearly 90 years old.

History in those hills

But perspective is a fascinating thing, which I didn’t learn a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, but last week very close to home.

I was sitting on the deck of a Casper Mountain cabin looking over the view that, ironically, had been much improved by the fire two years ago. Instead of gazing mostly at trees in the west, you could see the neighboring ridges and a spectacular sunset.

Looking south toward Elk Mountain was a clear view of the shapes of the ridges and canyons, some of them stripped of all their trees. The landscape was naked, it’s true, and you could see the bone structure better than when it had carpets of trees.

I was lucky enough to be viewing this with a geologist, Bart Rea, who said, “This was once all flat.” We were gazing at the mountains and valleys that stretch out to the south.

Erosion had cut into what geologists call the White River formation deposits to create plateaus above Alcova and the “badlands” of Bates Creek.

How long ago was it a flatland, I wondered.

“Twenty to thirty million years ago,” was the answer, which gave me a start.

Don’t even get started with the dinosaurs arriving 225 million years ago; I’m already feeling enough like a speck -- a very young, callow one.

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