Uniformitarian geologists have observed limestone features in rocks ranging from
Precambrian to Neogene, and interpreted them as ancient buried landscapes—paleokarsts.
Assumed to require repeated periods of long sub-aerial development, paleokarsts
have been used to challenge the 6,000-year biblical time-scale.
On closer examination, paleokarst is found to be a vague term adaptable to many
uses. Karst landscapes develop today on the surface of limestones and dolomites
when soluble rock material is dissolved by CO2-enriched water. Distinctive
landforms are produced including large scale pocket valleys, blind valleys, caves
and potholes; medium scale dolines*,
shafts, and karst springs; and small scale microkarst and karren*.
None of the large scale karst features present today are found as paleokarsts, though
standard geology claims that much better karstification conditions existed during
most of the ancient past.
Moreover, even under a thick rock cover, karstification continues unchecked, making
it highly unlikely that old karst features could survive unchanged. If
such long periods of time had been available, most of the limestone deposits should
have been dissolved away a long time ago. It is therefore subjective to ascribe
such great ages to what proves to be in most cases a series of superimposed and
overwritten features.
Paleokarst is therefore a confusing term because the observed features were formed
under different conditions from those that operate today. There was a major qualitative
change in the genesis of landforms, especially karst landforms, at the end of the
Tertiary. Indeed, the Quaternary seems to be the only era of true karstification
processes. Rather than a problem for Flood geology, the pattern of karstification
in the geologic record is easily understood in terms of the different geologic processes
that operated during the global Flood and the post-Flood era.
* Terms
marked with an asterisk are defined in the Glossary at the end
of this article.
We are used to seeing rivers flow on the surface of the earth, sometimes at the
bottom of very deep canyons. They often cut chasms of incredible size and with bizarre
shapes as they descend continuously towards an illusory rest—the sea. Yet,
there are rivers which, as if hiding a shameful secret, choose to flow underground—sometimes
over a kilometre below the surface. There they flow inside the earth, lured by the
same illusory rest. This is how, in less prosaic language, one may define the essence
of limestone terrain.
Not all rocks allow water to behave in this way. The rocks must yield to the chemical
attack of rainwater enriched in CO2—usually by plants and organic
material from the soil. More importantly, these rocks must be able to absorb rainwater.
In limestone, water is absorbed into a widely developed three dimensional network
of joints (secondary porosity) and primary voids (porosity). No matter how large
the volume of rock, it will rapidly fill with water and become a natural subterranean
reservoir.
In order for the subterranean water to move, there is need for a hydraulic head.
At least one site must exist, either below or at the same level as the water table,
from where the subterranean water can emerge into the light of day. Once this setting
is achieved, the continuous supply of aggressive water penetrating into the rock
starts to enlarge the joints and voids, generating genuine subterranean streams
and rivers inside caves and cave systems. We can now speak of a mature karst geosystem*.
The input areas, where the surface water sinks into the rock, impress the
passer-by with their distinctive landforms*:
funnel-shaped dolines, all sorts of fluted rock, with intricate channels
and runnels—karren or clints and grikes*.
Entire rivers are ingested by a swallowhole*
at the foot of a rock step that cuts across the river-bed—a blind valley*.
One wonders what would happen to these distinctive karst landforms once they were
buried under thick sediments. Uniformitarian geologists have observed limestone
features in rocks ranging from the Precambrian to the Neogene, and interpreted them
as ancient buried landscapes—paleokarsts*.
Would it be possible for buried paleokarsts to survive unchanged? Or would
they continue to erode away after they were buried, since water is known to penetrate
deep underground, and limestones are shaped by chemical, not physical erosion?
Finally, did the same erosional processes that carve karst landscapes today, form
the buried ‘paleokarst’ features in the past? After all, pseudokarst*
(false karst) is quite frequent today and, once buried, what would be chances of
telling the difference between the true and false karst?
Anti-creationists use these ‘paleokarst’ features, abundant in the geologic
record, to challenge the validity of the biblical Flood. How could karst landscapes,
which require long periods of sub-aerial development, have formed repeatedly during
a one-year global flood? Paleokarst is a geological phenomenon that requires a creationist
investigation. However, we must properly understand what is meant by karst and paleokarst.
Karst—a brief historical overview
Photo: Emil Silvestru
Typical karst landscape. Input areas where the surface water sinks into the rock,
exhibit distinctive morphology. On this karst plateau, the isolated firs and the
pond mark dolines, funnel-shaped hollows, one characteristic of karst landforms.
[Creation21(3):12, Fig. 5]
The word karst first appeared on a map published by Mercator at Amsterdam,
in 1585. The famous mapmaker called the area east of Trieste, Italy, ‘Karstia,
Carniolia, Histria et Windorum Marchia’.1
The Romans called the same area Carsus. The word seems to come from the
pre-Indo-European period, as Karra, meaning stone.2 It was then adopted by the Celts to mean ‘stony
desert’ and ended-up in Slovenian as Kras, a regional name for the
area mentioned above. After the territory was included in the Austrian Empire, Kras
was germanicized to Karst.
The Viennese geologists and geographers of the 19th century were the
first to scientifically study the area, and they introduced the scientific terminology,
coining both local (Serbian) and German descriptive terms. These included doline
(from Serbian), known in the Anglo-Saxon literature as sinkhole or shakehole;uvala*
(from Serbian) meaning a series of coalesced dolines; polje*
(from Serbian) literally meaning ‘field’ (a very large enclosed depression
over 1 km across, with a flat alluvial bottom and one or more streams coming from
a karst spring inside the polje and sinking inside the polje); kamenitza
(from Serbian) meaning a rock pool; karren (from German) also known as
clints and grikes or lapiés in French; ponor
(from Serbian) meaning swallowhole, or swallet, (a place where
a stream sinks under the ground). Other terms like blind valley (a karst
valley abruptly terminating via a swallowhole) and pocket valley (reculée
in French, sacktäler in German, the reverse of a blind valley, a valley
suddenly beginning at the foot of a cliff with a karst spring) also have regional
origins. All this is a peculiar kind of terminology, based on morphology,
with Kras remaining a type locality. However, the incredible mixture of terms makes
it difficult to communicate in a precise, unambiguous, scientific language.
In 1893, a Serbian geographer, Cvijić, defined the karst phenomenon,3still emphasising morphology.
This had the effect, as Ford and Williams2 put it:
‘… we now consider karst to comprise terrain typically characterised
by sinking streams, caves, enclosed depressions, fluted rock outcrops and large
springs.’
After geographers and geologists, it was the biologists who next took to the caves,
especially after the Romanian biologist and Antarctic explorer, Emil Racovitza,
published in 1907 his Essai sur les problemes biospéléologiques. Most consider
this the birth certificate of biospeleology.4
Then, following in the steps of engineers digging tunnels across the Alps, hydrologists
came investigating subterranean waters flowing kilometres inside the mountains.
Soon a clear distinction was made between these types of waters and other subterranean
waters. It was in the late sixties that a new concept began to emerge—the
karst geosystem, incorporating rocks, climate, fauna and flora in a close, interconnected
system. Such geosystems range from immense underground voids like the Sarawak Chamber2
in the Mulu karst, with a volume of 2 x 107m3 , to hydrothermal
caves in Romania, close to the surface, that support an entire food chain based
on chemosynthesis5,6 and containing 32 new species and 2 new genera.7
Karst features and their significance to geology
It is essential to understand that karst features are morphological expressions
of a dynamic process—the transit of water through lithostructural
units. This process consists of the following stages:
a) input (through aerial infiltration of rainwater and/or the punctual
sinking of water streams);
b) circulation (ranging from percolation to conduit flow);
c) storage (in karst aquifers); and
d) output (through outlets).
These stages are also present in the vertical classification of karst hydrographic
zones.2,8–10 With one exception, unless all four of these
stages are present, orthokarst and parakarst features do not occur*. The
exception is that several small-scale surface features, such as karren
and kamenitzas, may be present as parakarst features on a large variety
of rocks, including granites.1,2,8,11
However, these parakarst features are not generated by simple CO2-rich
rainwater but by local acidification. On limestone (and rock salt or rock gypsum),
all surface input features are connected to more-or-less vertical channels through
which water circulates towards the storage section. If there is
no output for the stored water, the entire lithostructural unit becomes
waterlogged, long before karren, dolines and blind valleys can form. In such cases,
there are no distinctive karst landforms.
Thus a two-fold distinction emerges. Not all small-scale surface karst and parakarst
features can be associated with proper karstification processes. However, whenever
medium-to-large scale surface (and subsurface) karst and parakarst features are
present, they indicate the existence of all four stages of the karstification process.
Consequently, any correct reconstruction of a paleokarst should identify those medium-to-large
scale features.
Karst and evolutionary geology
In modern times, most of the fundamental treatises of geology have only mentioned
karst for its speleothems12—its
subterranean crystalline deposits including stalactites and stalagmites. Occasionally,
mention is made about ‘paleokarst’ as a paleoclimatic and paleogeographic
indicator, but with little more than the concept of karst as a geomorphic feature.
Caves however, hold a special place in Quaternary geology and paleontology, because
of their sediments and the associated fossils (flora, fauna and humans). However,
they have only been considered a special, high-quality natural ‘storage facility’,
and not a part of an important geosystem with which they are finely tuned. Only
after speleothems were first radiometrically dated in 1958,13 was the potential of the karst geosystem for high
resolution dating of the Quaternary recognised. The allegedly isolated environment
of caves and the abundance of crystalline formations lured the new breed of ‘radiometrists’.
The use of radiocarbon for these first datings drastically reduced the range to
the last glacial period. Nevertheless, the ‘snowball’ was rolled over
the rim, and it was just a matter of time until new radionuclides were promoted
as stars on the newborn radiometric stage.
A critique of the evolutionist view of paleokarst
Although it appears to be a clear-cut term, paleokarst is assigned a broad array
of meanings. Geographers tend to emphasise a landform; geologists a particular mineral
paragenesis*;
karstologists hydrodynamic functioning and morphologies. It is significant that
in the most comprehensive treatise on paleokarst published so far, Bosák et al.14 writes about a ‘terminological
jungle’. This can be illustrated by several examples from some of the classical
treatises. The two terms, paleokarst and fossil karst, have been
closely mingled from the early times of karst studies, as de Martonne (1910) pointed
out.15 In different settings,
these two terms have been used either as synonyms or with two different meanings.
The following are just a few ‘standard’ definitions:
Bosák et al.:14paleokarst : ‘karst developed
largely or entirely during past geological periods’. It is divided into: 1.
buried karst: ‘karst phenomena formed at the surface
of the earth and then covered by later rocks; 2. intrastratal karst:
‘karst formed within rocks already buried by younger strata’; 3.
relict karst: ‘… karst landforms that were
created at the Earth’s surface under one set of morphogenic conditions and
which survive at the surface under a present, different set of conditions.’
Ford and Williams:2relict karsts: ‘karsts
removed from the situation in which they were developed, although they remain exposed
to and are modified by processes operating in the present system.’ Paleokarst
or buried karst: ‘are completely de-coupled
from the present hydrogeochemical system; they are fossilized. When stripped of
their cover beds they reveal an exhumed karst.’
Sweeting:9 ‘Fossil karst landforms are of two
main kinds. First, those formed in earlier geological periods and never covered
by later rocks; these may be called relict landforms. And secondly,
those formed in earlier geological periods, subsequently covered by non-limestone
rocks and later re-exhumed; these are exhumedorresurrected
landforms.’
Ford and Cullingford:10 ‘Fossil or paleokarst
… occurs beneath unconformities where solutional features of land surface
have been covered by later deposits.’
Apart from the obvious confusion of terminology, another problem is that these definitions
do not cover all reality.
For example, the category of buried karst14 is ambiguous, since there
are karsts with features that formed before the present morphogenic set of conditions.
These karsts are covered by other rocks and yet they fully function as elements
of the present day karst geosystem. Such an example is the Padis karst plateau in
the Apuseni Mountains of Romania,16
where sediments as thick as 85 m cover dolines that still act as punctual inlets
for runoff. The dolines feed a limestone aquifer (which includes caves) that is
discharged by one outlet. Obviously this example exhibits no ‘paleo’
features at all! In fact, it is practically impossible for any ancient karst feature
to be completely de-coupled from some type of solution. Even when located deep under
the surface, infiltrated water reaches them and consequently reshapes them.17 At the greater depths,
mineral waters and even hot, mineral-laden solutions of the hydrothermal, postmagmatic
phase sometimes invade and even enlarge pre-existing karst features, depositing
a wide array of minerals, including ores.17 In extreme cases, such an
invasion may occur in the pneumatolytic phase*,
with garnets depositing on top of classic calcite speleothems.18 The size and shape of such features are never
truly frozen (or fossilized) since the karst system is usually within range of one
type of aqueous solution or another. There is also strong evidence that thermo-mineral
solutions actively create karst features deep inside limestones. Deposition, if
it occurred in such environments, would have occurred only after the aggressiveness
of the solutions was dampened by the limestones.18,19–22
Relict karst14 is also a misleading term since it is based on the undefined
concept of ‘survival’. What is it that survives of ‘karst landforms
that were created at the Earth’s surface under one set of morphogenic conditions?’
Morphologies only? As we have already seen in the above examples, the presumed paleokarst
can maintain its hydrogeological functions, so how can one truly separate old morphologies
from more recent ones? In most cases, hydrographic and geomorphic selection criteria
are used, all based on how the researcher believes the hydrogeologic setting was
functioning in the past. Ford and Williams2 draw attention to this problem
but leave the issue open, by introducing the category of true paleokarst
or buried karst. These authors also use the term fossilized for
this category—obviously intending to link the category with the concept of
‘extinct’. However, while an extinct, buried creature is literally ‘de-coupled’
from the present biosphere, no lithostructure, let alone a buried landform (which
represents an important anisotropy inside a lithostructure), can be truly de-coupled
from the present hydrogeochemical system, be it surficial or deep.
Finally, it is impossible to distinguish between an exhumed karst when
‘stripped of its cover beds’ (as defined by all authors) and a relict
karst. Again, it is entirely at the researcher’s discretion (which
depends on his pre-conceived view of the whole system) to decide which landform
is what, no matter which of the above-mentioned definitions is used.
In my view, it is not possible to interpret true paleokarst on the basis of its
landform (or as a geographic feature). It is a lithostructural (or geologic) feature,
hence it must have undergone at least one geologic event—i.e. a chemical,
physical and/or tectonic change due to geological processes.23 And the so-called true paleokarst can occur in
a wide array of settings, ranging from voids (acting as secondary porosity), to
intrastratal breccias, and to complex petrographic structures (including some ore
deposits). Any other karst or fossil karst feature that is still a landform, i.e.
is exposed to surface processes, no matter its actual age or geomorphic setting,
is just a karst feature which may be assigned to a stage of the history of a given
karst geosystem. The use of the term fossil karst is essential
in such a case, because it implies that diagenesis*
had not affected the karst geosystem.
In the case of true paleokarst, diagenesis does not normally wipe away the difference
essential to karstification between soluble and insoluble (or rather, highly soluble
and less soluble) rocks. On the other hand, it seems most unlikely that paleokarst
can be buried beyond the reach of infiltrated water given the surprising results
concerning running water in the ultra-deep drilling in Kola as well as a wide range
of deep mines I have visited; that is, before the whole sedimentary sequence reaches
metamorphism depth and therefore loses its original structure. Once water reaches
the soluble/insoluble rock boundary, as would happen in the absolute majority of
cases, it will exploit it, by corroding the soluble rock and thus generating karst
features. Even if it may be argued that at some depth water is saturated and therefore
non-corrosive (in which case it would be expected to precipitate its excess of calcium
carbonate as identifiable lithologic features), the external erosion and uplift
would eventually bring the paleokarst to ‘corrosive water depth’. By
the time erosion and uplift brings the paleokarst to surface again, clear neokarst*
features should be superimposed on the original paleokarst. The literature I have
managed to investigate thus far makes no clear reference to such features in paleokarst.
Problems with the uniformitarian framework
Uniformitarian geologists consider the existence of paleokarst features in rocks
ranging from the Precambrian to the Neogene as a serious challenge to the creationist
model of the Flood. Their main question is: ‘How could surficial karst features,
which require long periods of sub-aerial development, form repeatedly during the
one-year Flood?’
Geologists consider paleokarst as a geomorphic feature indicating continental conditions.
Yet, in those cases where geomorphic conditions in the past were ideal for karst
features to form but no such features are found, the issue is ignored altogether.
Here is one example: in the Swiss Alps, (north of Lake Thun) the Schrattenkalk limestone,
which is considered of Cretaceous age (Barremian-Aptian in Urgonian facies), is
overlain by the Late Eocene Hohgant sandstone.24
I followed the Cretaceous/Eocene paraconformity (that covers, according to standard
geology, roughly 75 Ma) and was surprised not to find the slightest sign of
any paleorelief, let alone paleokarst, along the paraconformity. Yet,
a cave has now developed exactly along it. Neither geologists nor karstologists
seem at all bothered about this very unusual setting! However, in this part of Europe
(in fact in most of Europe) there were, according to standard geology, at least
4 Ma of continental conditions (in the Early Paleocene or Danian) during the above-mentioned
interval, and karst should have formed.
In my view, one must first look for recurrent paleokarst episodes and/or evidence
of their true aerial development. Local, small-scale, karst-like features, and even
occasionally medium scale isolated features on one surface in a sedimentary sequence,are not reliable proof of karstification under a sub-aerial environment.
We shall therefore concentrate on recurrent episodes, rather than details. At this
point, it seems to me that a discussion of the general pattern of worldwide karst
occurrence is more useful for testing the evolutionist framework of paleokarst.
A brief overview of world paleokarst and its particular patterns
There are two basic types of paleokarst: classical (exogenous, originating
at or near the earth’s surface) and hydrothermal (endogenous, originating
below the earth’s surface). The latter is much more complex as it involves
a great deal of ‘complementary geology’, i.e. the history of hydrothermal
solutions, geochemistry, tectonics, mineralogy, etc. besides karstology proper.
Furthermore, this type can develop completely de-coupled from external conditions
at the surface. Hence, we shall deal only with classical paleokarst. Hydrothermal
paleokarst is a separate topic that deserves a separate paper.
When looking for paleokarst, one immediately thinks of cratons because they have
the longest continental history. Sure enough, ancient features have been identified
on cratons by geologists and engineers, usually in man-made sections either in mines
or road works. However, it is important to understand that at no location is an
extended paleokarst surface displayed. All descriptions of such surfaces have been
extrapolated from boreholes, and consequently they reflect pre-existent theoretical
models.
Photo: Emil Silvestru
Negative relief on the landscape is formed when soluble rock material is dissolved
by CO2 rich water. This mini-canyon formed inside a karstic catchment
depression in less than 10 years. The sediments accumulated during periodic floods
when the swallow holes’s capacity to pass water to the subterranean passage
was overwhelmed. [Creation21(3):12, Fig. 7]
Far from claiming to be exhaustive, the following examples are considered by most
specialists as possible or even certain paleokarst. I have presented the data within
the framework of the uniformitarian geological column, only because that is how
the data has been already interpreted. Naturally, as I make clear later in this
paper, I do not endorse the million-year time-scale.
The Archean does not display any known paleokarst features.
The first alleged such features, karren and small dolines, are reported from the
Lower Proterozoic of Canada, South Africa and Russia.2
In the Upper Proterozoic similar features have also been noted in Australia and
China. On the North American continent, dolomites of the Latest Proterozoic-basal
Cambrian in Ontario, Canada, also display such features.2
There appears to be a widespread Cambrian paleokarst in Siberian rocks, including
early bauxites and deep breccias.2
The first extensive paleokarst is of sub-continental extent from the Ordovician,
in North America. The cyclic platform karst, ‘the Post-Sauk Karst’,
is the most common karst feature for this period.
The Silurian of Eurasia also appears to have generated cyclic paleokarst.2
The Devonian only displays local paleokarst, with the most significant being in
North America.2
The Devonian-Carboniferous boundary is probably the greatest global period of karstification.
In the United States, the mid-Carboniferous is marked by another set of paleokarst
features.2
The Permian shifted the case to Europe, Russia, China and generated local paleokarst
in Canada.
The Mesozoic seems to have been more selective, Europe being the sole host to some
significant features. The middle and upper Triassic generated the most important
paleokarst features in Yugoslavia and some smaller scale ones in southern England.2,9
At the end of the Jurassic and the beginning of the Cretaceous, many limestone deposits
in Europe seem to have emerged and karstified in a low-relief, low-energy environment.
This paleokarst is associated with bauxite deposits accumulated in what is believed
to be lacustrine (lake) conditions inside dolines and uvalas. The type locality
is Le Baux, France (where the name ‘bauxite’ comes from). Hungary and
Romania also share such features and ore deposits.
Finally, the Paleogene and even Neogene generated some local paleokarst around the
Black Sea (now at a depth of over 2,000 m). During the Messinian Crisis (5.5 Ma
ago, when it is believed that the Mediterranean Sea and consequently the Black Sea,
all but dried out) small scale cave systems developed along the Romanian and Bulgarian
coastline. The famous Movile Cave is considered as part of such a system.5
Problems for the standard uniformitarian interpretation
In broad terms, the Proterozoic to Devonian interval generated what seems to be
paleokarsts mainly on the North American continent. The Devonian-Carboniferous period
was more or less global, and beginning with the Permian, the weight of paleokarstification
moved to Eurasia.
There are a number of important questions that emerge from this pattern of karstification,
presented as it is within the usual uniformitarian framework of biological evolution,
plate tectonics and continental drift over millions of years.
The continental masses were more or less grouped from the Precambrian until the
Permian. Limestones were relatively uniformly distributed, yet paleokarst features
concentrate mostly in the future North America. According to accepted reconstructions,
the North American continent was located between the Equator and either 30°N
or 30°S, while Eurasia was further to the south in temperate climate.25 In such a location, the
climate, especially in the case of the Late Proterozoic and Cambrian, can hardly
account for the North American predominance of karst features, since karstification
is known to be active from equatorial to subpolar regions. Nor can relief energy,
since it was the same, i.e. reduced, worldwide. If the culprit is atmospheric chemistry,
are we to believe that the primeval atmosphere was highly inhomogeneous? Or was
it rather local lithological difference? In what way? Let us not forget that, though
alteration soils already existed, there were supposedly no organically-rich soils
to boost the CO2 content in the water reaching the limestone. As for
the CO2 content of the atmosphere, one can only guess since no reliable
data is available. So, was it karst anyway?
Were surface karstification processes possible at all during the Proterozoic and
early Cambrian? Why should we associate any negative paleorelief feature (such as
holes, shafts, and valleys) to karstification processes just because they are found
on rocks that are more soluble? Even more so, since no indication has ever
been found for the existence of the four essential karst hydrographic zones at the
same paleokarst location.
Photo: Emil Silvestru
Karren are a spectacular surface characteristic typical of the input areas of karst
landscapes. [Creation 21(3):12, Fig. 6]
Research (using evolutionary frameworks) revealed that compared to recent values,
during the early Paleozoic the partial pressure of CO2 (PCO2)
might have been about 10 times higher than today’s, and 4–6 times
higher during the middle Mesozoic.26
So, why does paleokarst occur on some limestone terrains and not on others, when
the climate was more or less ideal and PCO2 was so high that the rainwater
would have been aggressively corrosive? Lithology again? How—since today there
is little difference between the limestones of Proterozoic age of North America
and Europe?
Goethites (iron hydroxides resulting from the alteration of iron minerals under
continental conditions) in the Neda Formation in Wisconsin revealed
that in the Upper Ordovician the PCO2 was some 16 times higher than today.26
Well, that makes that period a prime time for karstification. Yet, the alleged paleokarsts
described in North America for the entire Ordovician are rather poor—at most,
karst only reached the proto-karstification stage.27 This is strange: there were limestones and dolomites
up to 1,200 m thick and exposed to karstification in a very CO2-rich
atmosphere for alleged millions of years. Yet only a few metres to 140 metres of
the surface was removed!28
The arid to semi-arid climate is no excuse for the absence of any significant karstification
over such a long period of time. The ratio of denudation (ROD) on limestones in
the Sahara has been determined at 6 mm/ka under present conditions.29 Given the previously mentioned
PCO2 values calculated for the Ordovician,27 one may parsimoniously
consider a ROD of 100 mm/ka for that period. What happened then? Why was there such
a poor rate of denudation? Or maybe those alleged millions of years of karstification
did not exist!
Let us now look at the paleokarsts of the Devonian/Carboniferous which were almost
global. According to standard geology, the continents were much closer to each other
than today; there was an important vegetal biomass; climate was relatively homogenous
and quite stable; and humidity was high. PCO2 was probably much higher
than today, and we are told there were at least 20 Ma of full-throttle karstification.
Considering an average of 50 mm/ka ROD—based on present day conditions30—for
comparable climate conditions but a higher PCO2 , one may again estimate
about 100 mm/ka for the Devonian/Carboniferous ROD. That means that at least 2,000
m should have corroded away in the 20-Ma uniformitarian time available! Nothing
like that is reported from the geological archives. The highest estimates so far
for the amount of carbonates removed by karstification are only 200 m.
One may of course argue that the low-energy relief of the landscape never exposed
the entire carbonate pile. In that case, an intricate and deep water table and phreatic
type of karst2 is expected (as all theoretical models and present examples
actually require in such a setting), with extensive mazes of winding conduits that
can better survive geologic events and which display unmistakable paleokarst features.
Yet, there is nothing like that in the archives. As a matter-of-fact, this kind
of paleokarst should occur before each marine transgression, because the water table
would rise with the rise in sea level (or the subsidence of the continents). Unless
of course, the transgressions were very rapid—which is not the case presented
by evolutionary geology.
Moving now to the Mesozoic bauxite-rich paleokarst: some very interesting bauxite
deposits, containing dinosaur bones, have been discovered in Romania.30
Many unusual features are associated with these deposits,31 seriously challenging their uniformitarian interpretation.
The ensemble of the mountain unit (called Apuseni Mountains) displays no reliable
evidence of paleokarst features for the late Jurassic; no paleovalleys, caves, travertines
or karren have been identified with an acceptable degree of certitude, although
some claim bauxite accumulated in a subaerial or lacustrine paleokarst.32 The same major question arises concerning this
alleged paleokarst: if there were millions of years of karstification in quite humid
conditions, how is it possible that no major, clear-cut karst features, especially
caves, were formed? How is it possible that in places the amount of limestone removed
by dissolution is insignificant? And why are there no traces of an ancient water
table and no phreatic karst? If the Jurassic/Cretaceous boundary was intensely karstified,
it would represent a major disconformity along which Quaternary karst, especially
caves and cave systems, should have developed. After all, it was available for an
alleged 98 Ma (the entire structure allegedly emerged by the end of the Albian,
never to be submerged again).32 All the caves I have investigated in
the area, some over 15 km long, in which the Jurassic/Cretaceous boundary is present
(often hardly noticeable) actually cut through it, without following it, let alone
reshaping it. A dense drilling grid also revealed no significant features across
the Jurassic/Cretaceous boundary. In fact, except for microfacies differences
inside what appears to be the same limestone,33 the usual geological practice in the area
is to regard the presence of bauxite as the marker of the boundary. The same is
true for the area to the east called Bihor Mountains, where the entire lithostructure
emerged even earlier, at the beginning of the Albian (thus providing 112 Ma for
karstification), without forming any true paleokarst features.16,33
Finally, the question both geologists and karstologists seem reluctant to ask, ‘Why
was there so little, if any, aerial paleokarst during the Tertiary?’ There
are karstoplains (a term based on Davis’ concept of peneplain,1,34,35
also known as ‘corrosional plains’2 ) today, so why was karst
so highly localised? Why did no true, extensive paleokarst surfaces form, and why
weren’t they covered by sediment and preserved? The conditions for karstification
during the Eocene, Oligocene, Miocene and Pliocene were warmer, and wetter—in
one word, ideal. Most karstologists and geomorphologists tend to believe that the
karstoplains of today are remnants of the Early Tertiary ones, broken up by tectonics
and sometimes by erosional (non-karstic) surfaces and continuously karstified until
present times. In other words, 65 Ma of a different geomorphology (as compared to
the pre-Tertiary one). Why then is there any limestone left? If one uses a very
low ROD, 50 mm/ka, as an average for the entire Tertiary, the total removal by solution
during the Tertiary should have been roughly 3,000 m. In addition to this, one must
not forget that the Quaternary has contributed a great deal of mechanical and chemical
erosion to whatever was left of the Tertiary relief. Furthermore, in Romania for
example, in the Villafranchian (Late Pliocene-Middle Pleistocene) the Wallachian
tectonism uplifted most of the relief, in some places up to 1,000 m.36 For the karst geosystem, this means a dramatic
increase in the karstification processes and implicitly a higher ROD. This is another
reason why we should question why there is still so much limestone left.
Summary and conclusion
From the Proterozoic to Mesozoic, all paleokarst features seem to have been reduced
to local minor surface features.
During the Mesozoic, it is claimed that major karst features formed only in some
parts of Europe (namely Yugoslavia). The other regions of the earth, even when karstification
conditions were much better than today, seem to have produced nothing but bauxite
ore deposits in minor surface karst features.
Similarly, the Tertiary produced little, if any, aerial paleokarst, even though
karstification conditions were supposedly good enough and long enough to generate
a complex and widely developed surface and subsurface karst.
The Quaternary, the shortest era according to evolutionary geology, has managed
to make up for it all. In this ‘short’ period, karstification processes
have been able to generate the grandiose karst features we see all over the world
today, from the equatorial to polar regions.
It is clear that there must have been a major qualitative change in the genesis
of landforms, especially karst landforms, at the end of the Tertiary.
A logical inference from this change is that true karstification processes, like
the ones we are witnessing today (which after all are the ones that inspired the
very idea of karstification), only occurred in the Quaternary. All previous karst-like
features represent protokarst (incipient or incomplete karst) or pseudokarst.
In my view, the pattern of karst landscapes is an excellent reflection of the qualitatively
different processes operating during the different stages of the worldwide Flood,
and during the 4,300-year post-Flood era.
Glossary
Karst literature abounds with terms formed by combining prefixes like pseudo,
vulcano, halo (referring to halides), and thermo (referring
to karst features generated by warm or hot air in ice) with the root karst.
Unfortunately this terminology brings together features that are genetically very
different, and leads to confusion and misunderstanding. How can one consider, for
example, the morphological similarities between a cave formed from ice melted by
warm air, and a cave formed in limestone by the complicated processes of chemical
erosion and litho-structural control?
To clarify the situation, I have used a simplified terminology in this paper, to
ensure consistency of terminology, utilising as few criteria as possible.
a) orthokarst: karst features generated on limestone mainly by chemical
erosion. (I use the term ‘karst’ as a generic term, whenever
the above-mentioned distinction is not relevant.)
b) parakarst: karst features generated on karst rocks other than limestone,
mainly by chemical erosion.
c) pseudokarst: karst features generated on any type of rock mainly by
processes other than chemical erosion.37
Pneumatolysis: the alteration of rock or crystallization of minerals by
gaseous emanations from the late stages of a solidifying magma.
Landforms have been classified as follows:
Surface features:
Small scale features: (also known as clints and grikes or lapiés),
kamenitzas.
Medium scale features: dolines (sinkholes or shakeholes),
uvalas, shafts, ponors (swallowholes or swallets),
karst springs.
Large scale features: pocket valleys, blind valleys, and poljes.
Sub-surface features:
Caves and cave systems
Potholes
Posted on homepage: 2 August 2007
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