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Fluorine

Fluorine compounds are essential in numerous chemical and manufacturing processes. Fluorspar is the commercial name for fluorite (isometric CaF 2 ), which is the only fluorine mineral that is mined on a large scale. Fluorspar is used directly as a fluxing material and as an additive in different manufacturing processes. It is the source of fluorine in the production of hydrogen fluoride or hydrofluoric acid, which is used as the feedstock for numerous organic and inorganic chemical compounds. The United States was the world’s leading producer of fluorspar until the mid-1950s. In the mid-1970s, the U.S. fluorspar mining industry began to decline because of foreign competition. By 1982, there was essentially only a single U.S. producer left, and that company ceased mining in 1996. Consumption of fluorspar in the United States peaked in the early 1970s, which was also the peak period of U.S. steel production. Since then, U.S. fluorspar consumption has decreased substantially; the United States has nonetheless increased its imports of downstream fluorine compounds, such as, in order of tonnage imported, hydrofluoric acid, aluminum fluoride, and cryolite. This combination of no U.S. production (until recently) and high levels of consumption has made the United States the world’s leading fluorspar-importing country, in all its various forms. The number of fluorspar-exporting countries has decreased substantially in recent decades, and, as a result, the United States has become dependent on just a few countries to supply its needs. In 2013, the United States imported the majority of its fluorspar from three countries, which were, in descending order of the amount imported, Mexico, China, and South Africa. Geologically, in igneous systems, fluorine is one of a number of elements that are “incompatible.” These incompatible elements become concentrated in the residual magma while the common silicates crystallize upon magma ascent and cooling, leading to relatively high fluorine concentrations in the more evolved or differentiated igneous rocks and in hydrothermal deposits associated with those evolved igneous rocks. In sedimentary rocks, fluorine’s highest concentrations are found in phosphorites because fluorine substitutes for hydroxyl ions in apatite, which leads to fluorine concentrations of, typically, from 2 to 4 weight percent in phosphorites. Because of the presence of fluorine, phosphate fertilizer manufacturers can produce a fluorosilicic acid byproduct. Most deposits mined for fluorine are hydrothermal, however, and consist of fluorine minerals that precipitated from hot water. Magmatic brines and brines from deep within sedimentary basins that have high concentrations of dissolved fluoride are the mineralizing fluids for various types of hydrothermal fluorspar deposits. Relatively dilute hydrothermal fluids that formed in some volcanic rocks can also transport sufficient fluoride to form a high-grade fluorspar deposit. Fluorite has low solubility in a common range of hydrothermal temperatures, particularly from about 160 degrees Celsius (°C) down to 60 °C. The increasing fluorite solubility below 60 °C partly explains why some water with exceptionally high levels of dissolved fluorine are found even at ambient temperatures in evaporitic lake basins in some East African Rift valleys in Kenya and Tanzania. The geologic conditions that led to the high concentrations there are known to exist in a number of other places in the world as well, including, perhaps, places in the Basin and Range province of the United States. Eight minerals or mineral groups have sufficient fluorine in their structures to be considered as possible ores of the element; they are bastnaesite (also spelled bastnäsite; and other fluorocarbonates), cryolite, sellaite, villiaumite, fluorite, fluorapatite (in phosphorites), various phyllosilicates, and topaz. Fluorite is currently the only mineral that is mined for fluorine, and nomineral except fluorite is likely to become a source of commercially produced fluorine as a primary product as long as supplies from relatively thick and high-grade fluorite deposits continue to be available. At least seven classes (which include one subclass) of hydrothermal fluorite deposits are recognized; they are classified according to their tectonic and (or) magmatic settings, as follows: (1) carbonatite-related fluorspar deposits; (2) alkaline-intrusion-related fluorspar deposits; (3) alkaline-volcanic-related epithermal fluorspar deposits; (4) Mississippi Valley-type fluorspar deposits (and a subclass of salt-related carbonate-hosted fluorspar deposits); (5) fluorspar deposits related to strongly differentiated granites; (6) subalkaline-volcanic-related epithermal fluospar deposits; and (7) fluorspar deposits that appear to be conformable within tuffaceous limy lacustrine sediments. An eighth class (not hydrothermal) is that of fluorspar deposits concentrated in soils and weathered zones; that is, residual fluorspar deposits. Generally, fluorspar deposits related to strongly differentiated granites have larger tonnages and lower grades than carbonatite-related fluorspar deposits, which, in turn, have larger tonnages and lower grades than fluorspar vein deposits from various other classes. The United States has a few identified resources of fluorspar, most notably the Klondike II property in the Illinois- Kentucky fluorspar district located about 8 kilometers southwest of Salem, Kentucky, which has a large vein that contains at least 1.6 million metric tons at a grade of 60 percent CaF 2 (Feytis, 2009). Additional fluorspar resources of lower grade but larger tonnage have been identified at Hicks Dome in the Illinois-Kentucky fluorspar district and at Lost River near the western tip of the Seward Peninsula in Alaska, along with a couple of dozen smaller, higher grade resources. Internationally, new mines that either opened before the beginning of 2013 or were scheduled to open soon after that time include the Nui Phao tungsten-fluorspar-bismuth-copper-gold deposit in northern Vietnam; the St. Lawrence project in Newfoundland, Canada, which is located in a well-known fluorspar district; the Bamianshan deposit, which is related to a strongly differentiated granite in northwestern Zhejiang Province, China, near some of that Province’s large, subalkaline-volcanic-related epithermal veins; and the Nokeng project in South Africa, which is also related to a strongly differentiated granite. Other deposits in northwestern Australia, Nevada (United States), Norway, South Africa, and Sweden have been identified and could be put into production within just a few years. Among undiscovered resources, an interesting possibility might be to produce a fluorine product from evaporitic, high-fluorine, high-pH sodium-carbonate brines like Lake Magadi (Kenya) and Lake Natron (Tanzania) in Africa’s Eastern Rift Valley. In addition, apparently conformable fluorspar deposits in tuffaceous limy lacustrine sediments, such as those in Italy, are likely to occur in similar young alkalic volcanic settings elsewhere in the world. Modern geophysical and geochemical exploration techniques have typically not been brought to bear in exploration for new fluorspar deposits, although such techniques are likely to be used in future exploration. The tendency for fluorine to dissolve in significant concentrations in water at low temperature allows both surface water and groundwater to be used as sampling media in geochemical exploration. Evolved granite-related fluorspar deposits may be particularly susceptible to geophysical exploration methods because crystalline rocks that form a basement to sedimentary sections can be approximately defined with gravity and magnetic methods, and magnetite-bearing skarns can be directly detected with magnetic surveys. Environmental considerations of fluorine mining focus especially on drinking water, where high fluorine concentrations can lead to tooth decay; dental and skeletal fluorosis; and bone and cartilage conditions, including genu valgum, which is the crippling bone deformity more commonly known as knock knee. Trace amounts of other elements in fluorspar ores are a concern at some deposits; for example, high beryllium concentrations in alkaline-volcanic-related epithermal deposits or high cadmium concentrations associated with Mississippi Valley-type and salt-related carbonate-hosted fluorspar deposits. Future research might include testing whether fluorine can be extracted economically from high-pH, sodium-carbonate brines and exploring for new occurrences of apparently conformable fluorspar deposits in tuffaceous limy lacustrine sediments outside of the Latium Region of Italy. Other promising new areas of research could be studies of fluorspar deposit fluid inclusion compositions by quadrupole mass spectrometry, by noble gas mass spectrometry on irradiated fluid inclusions, or by chlorine isotopes, while also measuring the chemistry of the same fluid inclusions either by bulk crush-and-leach methods or by laser ablation-inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometry. Advanced studies of fluid inclusion chemistry could be applied beneficially to some of the enigmatic large epithermal fluorspar veins at various places in the world, where they might determine those deposits’ possible relationships to igneous intrusions, or to dissolved salt, or to heated meteoric water in volcanic sections, or perhaps to all three. This knowledge could help focus new exploration.

Professional Paper↗

Decadal-scale hotspot methane ebullition within lakes following abrupt permafrost thaw

Thermokarst lakes accelerate deep permafrost thaw and the mobilization of previously frozen soil organic carbon. This leads to microbial decomposition and large releases of carbon dioxide (CO 2 ) and methane (CH 4 ) that enhance climate warming. However, the time scale of permafrost-carbon emissions following thaw is not well known but is important for understanding how abrupt permafrost thaw impacts climate feedback. We combined field measurements and radiocarbon dating of CH 4 ebullition with (a) an assessment of lake area changes delineated from high-resolution (1–2.5 m) optical imagery and (b) geophysical measurements of thaw bulbs (taliks) to determine the spatiotemporal dynamics of hotspot-seep CH 4 ebullition in interior Alaska thermokarst lakes. Hotspot seeps are characterized as point-sources of high ebullition that release 14 C-depleted CH 4 from deep (up to tens of meters) within lake thaw bulbs year-round. Thermokarst lakes, initiated by a variety of factors, doubled in number and increased 37.5% in area from 1949 to 2009 as climate warmed. Approximately 80% of contemporary CH 4 hotspot seeps were associated with this recent thermokarst activity, occurring where 60 years of abrupt thaw took place as a result of new and expanded lake areas. Hotspot occurrence diminished with distance from thermokarst lake margins. We attribute older 14 C ages of CH 4 released from hotspot seeps in older, expanding thermokarst lakes ( 14 C CH4 20 079 ± 1227 years BP, mean ± standard error (s.e.m.) years) to deeper taliks (thaw bulbs) compared to younger 14 C CH4 in new lakes ( 14 C CH4 8526 ± 741 years BP) with shallower taliks. We find that smaller, non-hotspot ebullition seeps have younger 14 C ages (expanding lakes 7473 ± 1762 years; new lakes 4742 ± 803 years) and that their emissions span a larger historic range. These observations provide a first-order constraint on the magnitude and decadal-scale duration of CH 4 -hotspot seep emissions following formation of thermokarst lakes as climate warms.

Alaska↗

Decadal-scale variability of diffuse CO2 emissions and seismicity revealed from long-term monitoring (1995–2013) at Mammoth Mountain, California, USA

Mammoth Mountain, California, is a dacitic volcano that has experienced several periods of unrest since 1989. The onset of diffuse soil CO 2 emissions at numerous locations on the flanks of the volcano began in 1989–1990 following an 11-month period of heightened seismicity. CO 2 emission rates were measured yearly from 1995 to 2013 at Horseshoe Lake (HSL), the largest tree kill area on Mammoth Mountain, and measured intermittently at four smaller degassing areas around Mammoth from 2006 to 2013. The long-term record at HSL shows decadal-scale variations in CO 2 emissions with two peaks in 2000–2001 and 2011–2012, both of which follow peaks in seismicity by 2–3 years. Between 2000 and 2004 emissions gradually declined during a seismically quiet period, and from 2004 to 2009 were steady at ~ 100 metric tonnes per day (t d − 1 ). CO 2 emissions at the four smaller tree-kill areas also increased by factors of 2–3 between 2006 and 2011–2012, demonstrating a mountain-wide increase in degassing. Delays between the peaks in seismicity and degassing have been observed at other volcanic and hydrothermal areas worldwide, and are thought to result from an injection of deep CO 2 -rich fluid into shallow subsurface reservoirs causing a pressurization event with a delayed transport to the surface. Such processes are consistent with previous studies at Mammoth, and here we highlight (1) the mountain-wide response, (2) the characteristic delay of 2–3 years, and (3) the roughly decadal reoccurrence interval for such behavior. Our best estimate of total CO 2 degassing from Mammoth Mountain was 416 t d − 1 in 2011 during the peak of emissions, over half of which was emitted from HSL. The cumulative release of CO 2 between 1995 and 2013 from diffuse emissions is estimated to be ~ 2–3 Mt, and extrapolation back to 1989 gives ~ 4.8 Mt. This amount of CO 2 release is similar to that produced by the mid-sized (VEI 3) 2009 eruption of Redoubt Volcano in Alaska (~ 2.3 Mt over 11 months), and significantly lower than long-term emissions from hydrothermal areas such as Solfatara in Campi Flegrei, Italy (16 Mt over 28 years).

California↗

Interpretation of surface flux measurements in heterogeneous terrain during the Monsoon '90 experiment

A network of 9-m-tall surface flux measurement stations were deployed at eight sparsely vegetated sites during the Monsoon '90 experiment to measure net radiation, Q , soil heat flux, G , sensible heat flux, H (using eddy correlation), and latent heat flux, λ E (using the energy balance equation). At four of these sites, 2-m-tall eddy correlation systems were used to measure all four fluxes directly. Also a 2-m-tall Bowen ratio system was deployed at one site. Magnitudes of the energy balance closure ( Q + G + H + λ E ) increased as the complexity of terrain increased. The daytime Bowen ratio decreased from about 10 before the monsoon season to about 0.3 during the monsoons. Source areas of the measurements are developed and compared to scales of heterogeneity arising from the sparse vegetation and the topography. There was very good agreement among simultaneous measurements of Q with the same model sensor at different heights (representing different source areas), but poor agreement among different brands of sensors. Comparisons of simultaneous measurements of G suggest that because of the extremely small source area, extreme care in sensor deployment is necessary for accurate measurement in sparse canopies. A recently published model to estimate fetch is used to interpret measurements of H at the 2 m and 9 m heights. Three sites were characterized by undulating topography, with ridgetops separated by about 200–600 m. At these sites, sensors were located on ridgetops, and the 9-m fetch included the adjacent valley, whereas the 2-m fetch was limited to the immediate ridgetop and hillside. Before the monsoons began, vegetation was mostly dormant, the watershed was uniformly hot and dry, and the two measurements of H were in close agreement. After the monsoons began and vegetation fully matured, the 2-m measurements of H were significantly greater than the 9-m measurements, presumably because the vegetation in the valleys was denser and cooler than on the ridgetops and hillsides. At one lowland site with little topographic relief, the vegetation was more uniform, and the two measurements of H were in close agreement during peak vegetation. Values of λ E could only be compared at two sites, but the 9-m values were greater than the 2-m values, suggesting λ E from the dense vegetation in the valleys was greater than elsewhere.

Water Environment Research↗

Hydrology of the North Cascades region, Washington: 2. A proposed hydrometeorological streamflow prediction method

On the basis of a linear relationship between winter (October-April) precipitation and annual runoff from a drainage basin (Rasmussen and Tangborn, 1976) a physically reasonable model for predicting summer (May-September) streamflow from drainages in the North Cascades region was developed. This hydrometeorological prediction method relates streamflow for a season beginning on the day of prediction to the storage (including snow, ice, soil moisture, and groundwater) on that day. The spring storage is inferred from an input-output relationship based on the principle of conservation of mass: spring storage equals winter precipitation on the basin less winter runoff from the basin and less winter evapotranspiration, which is presumed to be small. The method of prediction is based on data only from the years previous to the one for which the prediction is made, and the system is revised each year as data for the previous year become available. To improve the basin storage estimate made in late winter or early spring, a short-season runoff prediction is made. The errors resulting from this short-term prediction are used to revise the storage estimate and improve the later prediction. This considerably improves the accuracy of the later prediction, especially for periods early in the summer runoff season. The optimum length for the test period appears to be generally less than a month for east side basins and between 1 and 2 months for those on the west side of the Cascade Range. The time distribution of the total summer runoff can be predicted when this test season is used so that on May 1 monthly streamflow for the May-September season can be predicted. It was found that summer precipitation and the time of minimum storage are two error sources that were amenable to analysis. For streamflow predictions in seasons beginning in early spring the deviation of the subsequent summer precipitation from a long-period average will contribute up to 53% of the prediction error. This contribution decreases to nearly zero during the summer and then rises slightly for late summer predictions. The reason for the smaller than expected effect of summer precipitation is thought to be due to the compensating effect of increased evaporative losses and increased infiltration when precipitation is greater than normal during the summer months. The error caused by the beginning winter month (assumed to be October in this study) not coinciding with the time of minimum storage was examined; it appears that October may be the best average beginning winter month for most drainages but that a more detailed study is needed. The optimum beginning of the winter season appears to vary from August to October when individual years are examined. These results demonstrate that standard precipitation and runoff measurements in the North Cascades region are adequate for constructing a predictive hydrologic model. This model can be used to make streamflow predictions that compare favorably with current multiple regression methods based on mountain snow surveys. This method has the added advantages of predicting the space and time distributions of storage and summer runoff.

Washington↗

Overview of the Mars Pathfinder Mission: Launch through landing, surface operations, data sets, and science results

Mars Pathfinder successfully landed at Ares Vallis on July 4, 1997, deployed and navigated a small rover about 100 m clockwise around the lander, and collected data from three science instruments and ten technology experiments. The mission operated for three months and returned 2.3 Gbits of data, including over 16,500 lander and 550 rover images, 16 chemical analyses of rocks and soil, and 8.5 million individual temperature, pressure and wind measurements. Path‐finder is the best known location on Mars, having been clearly identified with respect to other features on the surface by correlating five prominent horizon features and two small craters in lander images with those in high‐resolution orbiter images and in inertial space from two‐way ranging and Doppler tracking. Tracking of the lander has fixed the spin pole of Mars, determined the precession rate since Viking 20 years ago, and indicates a polar moment of inertia, which constrains a central metallic core to be between 1300 and ∼2000 km in radius. Dark rocks appear to be high in silica and geochemically similar to anorogenic andesites; lighter rocks are richer in sulfur and lower in silica, consistent with being coated with various amounts of dust. Rover and lander images show rocks with a variety of morphologies, fabrics and textures, suggesting a variety of rock types are present. Rounded pebbles and cobbles on the surface as well as rounded bumps and pits on some rocks indicate these rocks may be conglomerates (although other explanations are also possible), which almost definitely require liquid water to form and a warmer and wetter past. Air‐borne dust is composed of composite silicate particles with a small fraction of a highly magnetic mineral, interpreted to be most likely maghemite; explanations suggest iron was dissolved from crustal materials during an active hydrologic cycle with maghemite freeze dried onto silicate dust grains. Remote sensing data at a scale of a kilometer or greater and an Earth analog correctly predicted a rocky plain safe for landing and roving with a variety of rocks deposited by catstrophic floods, which are relatively dust free. The surface appears to have changed little since it formed billions of years ago, with the exception that eolian activity may have deflated the surface by ∼3–7 cm, sculpted wind tails, collected sand into dunes, and eroded ventifacts (fluted and grooved rocks). Pathfinder found a dusty lower atmosphere, early morning water ice clouds, and morning near‐surface air temperatures that changed abruptly with time and height. Small scale vortices, interpreted to be dust devils, were observed repeatedly in the afternoon by the meteorology instruments and have been imaged.

Journal of Geophysical Research E: Planets↗

Prevention, early detection and containment of invasive, nonnative plants in the Hawaiian Islands: current efforts and needs

Introduction: Invasive, non-native plants (or environmental weeds) have long been recognized as a major threat to the native biodiversity of oceanic islands (Cronk & Fuller, 1995; Denslow, 2003). Globally, several hundred non-native plant species have been reported to have major impacts on natural areas on oceanic islands (Kueffer et al ., 2009). In Hawaii, at least some 50 non-native plant species reach dominance in natural areas (Kueffer et al ., 2009) and many of them are known to impact ecosystem processes or biodiversity. One example is the invasive Australian tree fern ( Cyathea cooperi ), which has been shown to be very efficient at utilizing soil nitrogen and can grow six times as rapidly in height, maintain four times more fronds, and produce significantly more fertile fronds per month than the native Hawaiian endemic tree ferns, Cibotium spp. (Durand & Goldstein, 2001a, b). Additionally, while native tree ferns provide an ideal substrate for epiphytic growth of many understory ferns and flowering plants, the Australian tree fern has the effect of impoverishing the understory and failing to support an abundance of native epiphytes (Medeiros & Loope, 1993). Other notorious examples of invasive plant species problematic for biodiversity and ecosystem processes in Hawaii include miconia ( Miconia calvescens ), strawberry guava ( Psidium cattleianum ), albizia ( Falcataria moluccana ), firetree ( Morella faya ), clidemia ( Clidemia hirta ), kahili ginger ( Hedychium gardnerianum ), and fountain grass ( Pennisetum setaceum ), to name just a few. Fireweed ( Senecio madagascariensis ) is a recent example of a seriously problematic invasive species for Hawaii’s agriculture and is damaging certain high-elevations native ecosystems as well. The threat of invasive plants has long been recognized in Hawaii and is well documented (e.g. Cox, 1999; Loope & Kraus, 2009 in press; Loope et al ., 2004; Mooney & Drake, 1986; Stone & Scott, 1985; Stone et al. , 1992). In many respects, Hawaii may be near the forefront among national and international efforts to address the burgeoning threat of invasive plants, perhaps especially in the field of outreach and education (Holt, 1996; Van Driesche & Van Driesche, 2000). However, given the scale of the problem many challenges still need to be addressed and gaps in the existing management system need to be identified. In particular, it appears that new non-native plant species are still introduced to the Hawaiian Islands at a high rate with little or no regard for their potential invasiveness. In fact, a Pacific-wide and a global survey of non-native plants on oceanic islands have both shown that on Hawaii among all archipelagos by far the highest number of problematic invasive species known from other areas in the world is already present (Denslow et al . 2009, Kueffer et al . 2009). Hawaii lacks an effective mechanism for tracking what species are present or incoming. For instance, early detection nursery surveys conducted on Maui in 2008 found over 300 species of cultivated vascular plants that have not previously been recorded in Hawaii (Starr et al. , in prep.). In spite of an innovative Hawaii Biological Survey (e.g. Eldredge & Evenhuis, 2003), there is no mechanism for recording presence of a species until it becomes naturalized. Some of these new introductions may quickly become serious pests. Fireweed, first recorded in Hawaii on the Big Island in the early 1980s, is now considered one of the Kueffer & Loope 2009 5/48 worst weeds of pastures and is also invading natural areas from near sea level to above 10,000 feet. Although the cultivated and as yet non-invasive Cortaderia selloana has been present in Hawaii for 50 years or more, the morphologically similar Cortaderia jubata was simultaneously found to be present on Maui and invading on a large scale in 1989. It played an important role in inspiring the establishment of the Maui Invasive Species Committee (MISC) in 1997, and MISC now spends roughly $200,000 per year removing and containing C. jubata to keep it from becoming widespread in high elevation conservation lands of East and West Maui. The existence of many similar examples shows that to date regulatory action to prevent new invasive plant species from establishing and spreading in Hawaii has not yet been as successful as it needs to be. In particular, because some problematic invasive species known from other areas in the world (Kueffer et al ., 2009; Weber, 2003) have not yet been recorded from Hawaii, preventive measures against the introduction and spread of such likely invasive species is therefore an urgent need for Hawaii. Indeed, regulation of importation and early detection and eradication of introduced species before they become abundant and widespread are widely considered the most cost-efficient and often only effective measures against the threat of new invasive species (Kueffer & Hirsch Hadorn, 2008; Wittenberg & Cock, 2001). Timing seems favorable for Hawaii to achieve effective protection against the threat of new invasive species through prevention, early detection, and eradication/containment. Through the establishment and evolution of Invasive Species Committees (ISCs) on each major Hawaiian island, the institutional capacity has been built up for prevention, early detection, containment, and outreach at an island scale. Weed risk assessment (Daehler et al ., 2004) and early detection methodologies (Starr et al. , in review-a, b) have been developed and tested specifically for Hawaii. Containment strategies have been successful (e.g., Special Ecological Areas in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park), and so have eradications of particular species on an island scale (e.g. mullein ( Verbascum thapsus ) and other species on Maui, fireweed ( Senecio madagascariensis ) on Kauai). These successful management strategies may be further strengthened through recently developed novel approaches in research (e.g. remote sensing, species distribution modelling, and molecular genetics tools). Another major recent achievement is the gained support of the plant industry for preventive measures against invasive species (see p. 13ff). Last but not least, regulatory action is also moving forward. Passage of House Bill 2517 by the 2008 Hawaii House and Senate and prompt signing of the bill into law by the Governor provides hope that action to ban the sale of a meaningful suite of restricted weeds can quickly proceed through the rulemaking phase into the implementation phase. This report documents these achievements and experiences and provides a range of perspectives on how to further develop prevention, early detection and containment of invasive species in Hawaii. The report is based on a symposium and workshop held at the 2008 Hawaii Conservation Conference in Honolulu on 31 July 2008.

Hawaii↗

Global methane budget 2000-2020

Understanding and quantifying the global methane (CH 4 ) budget is important for assessing realistic pathways to mitigate climate change. CH 4 is the second most important human-influenced greenhouse gas in terms of climate forcing after carbon dioxide (CO 2 ), and both emissions and atmospheric concentrations of CH 4 have continued to increase since 2007 after a temporary pause. The relative importance of CH 4 emissions compared to those of CO 2 for temperature change is related to its shorter atmospheric lifetime, stronger radiative effect, and acceleration in atmospheric growth rate over the past decade, the causes of which are still debated. Two major challenges in quantifying the factors responsible for the observed atmospheric growth rate arise from diverse, geographically overlapping CH 4 sources and from the uncertain magnitude and temporal change in the destruction of CH 4 by short-lived and highly variable hydroxyl radicals (OH). To address these challenges, we have established a consortium of multidisciplinary scientists under the umbrella of the Global Carbon Project to improve, synthesise, and update the global CH 4 budget regularly and to stimulate new research on the methane cycle. Following Saunois et al. (2016, 2020), we present here the third version of the living review paper dedicated to the decadal CH 4 budget, integrating results of top-down CH 4 emission estimates (based on in situ and Greenhouse Gases Observing SATellite (GOSAT) atmospheric observations and an ensemble of atmospheric inverse-model results) and bottom-up estimates (based on process-based models for estimating land surface emissions and atmospheric chemistry, inventories of anthropogenic emissions, and data-driven extrapolations). We present a budget for the most recent 2010–2019 calendar decade (the latest period for which full data sets are available), for the previous decade of 2000–2009 and for the year 2020. The revision of the bottom-up budget in this 2025 edition benefits from important progress in estimating inland freshwater emissions, with better counting of emissions from lakes and ponds, reservoirs, and streams and rivers. This budget also reduces double counting across freshwater and wetland emissions and, for the first time, includes an estimate of the potential double counting that may exist (average of 23 Tg CH 4 yr −1 ). Bottom-up approaches show that the combined wetland and inland freshwater emissions average 248 [159–369] Tg CH 4 yr −1 for the 2010–2019 decade. Natural fluxes are perturbed by human activities through climate, eutrophication, and land use. In this budget, we also estimate, for the first time, this anthropogenic component contributing to wetland and inland freshwater emissions. Newly available gridded products also allowed us to derive an almost complete latitudinal and regional budget based on bottom-up approaches. For the 2010–2019 decade, global CH 4 emissions are estimated by atmospheric inversions (top-down) to be 575 Tg CH 4 yr −1 (range 553–586, corresponding to the minimum and maximum estimates of the model ensemble). Of this amount, 369 Tg CH 4 yr −1 or ∼ 65 % is attributed to direct anthropogenic sources in the fossil, agriculture, and waste and anthropogenic biomass burning (range 350–391 Tg CH 4 yr −1 or 63 %–68 %). For the 2000–2009 period, the atmospheric inversions give a slightly lower total emission than for 2010–2019, by 32 Tg CH 4 yr −1 (range 9–40). The 2020 emission rate is the highest of the period and reaches 608 Tg CH 4 yr −1 (range 581–627), which is 12 % higher than the average emissions in the 2000s. Since 2012, global direct anthropogenic CH 4 emission trends have been tracking scenarios that assume no or minimal climate mitigation policies proposed by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (shared socio-economic pathways SSP5 and SSP3). Bottom-up methods suggest 16 % (94 Tg CH 4 yr −1 ) larger global emissions (669 Tg CH 4 yr −1 , range 512–849) than top-down inversion methods for the 2010–2019 period. The discrepancy between the bottom-up and the top-down budgets has been greatly reduced compared to the previous differences (167 and 156 Tg CH 4 yr −1 in Saunois et al. (2016, 2020) respectively), and for the first time uncertainties in bottom-up and top-down budgets overlap. Although differences have been reduced between inversions and bottom-up, the most important source of uncertainty in the global CH 4 budget is still attributable to natural emissions, especially those from wetlands and inland freshwaters. The tropospheric loss of methane, as the main contributor to methane lifetime, has been estimated at 563 [510–663] Tg CH 4 yr −1 based on chemistry–climate models. These values are slightly larger than for 2000–2009 due to the impact of the rise in atmospheric methane and remaining large uncertainty ( ∼ 25 %). The total sink of CH 4 is estimated at 633 [507–796] Tg CH 4 yr −1 by the bottom-up approaches and at 554 [550–567] Tg CH 4 yr −1 by top-down approaches. However, most of the top-down models use the same OH distribution, which introduces less uncertainty to the global budget than is likely justified. For 2010–2019, agriculture and waste contributed an estimated 228 [213–242] Tg CH 4 yr −1 in the top-down budget and 211 [195–231] Tg CH 4 yr −1 in the bottom-up budget. Fossil fuel emissions contributed 115 [100–124] Tg CH 4 yr −1 in the top-down budget and 120 [117–125] Tg CH 4 yr −1 in the bottom-up budget. Biomass and biofuel burning contributed 27 [26–27] Tg CH 4 yr −1 in the top-down budget and 28 [21–39] Tg CH 4 yr −1 in the bottom-up budget. We identify five major priorities for improving the CH 4 budget: (i) producing a global, high-resolution map of water-saturated soils and inundated areas emitting CH 4 based on a robust classification of different types of emitting ecosystems; (ii) further development of process-based models for inland-water emissions; (iii) intensification of CH 4 observations at local (e.g. FLUXNET-CH 4 measurements, urban-scale monitoring, satellite imagery with pointing capabilities) to regional scales (surface networks and global remote sensing measurements from satellites) to constrain both bottom-up models and atmospheric inversions; (iv) improvements of transport models and the representation of photochemical sinks in top-down inversions; and (v) integration of 3D variational inversion systems using isotopic and/or co-emitted species such as ethane as well as information in the bottom-up inventories on anthropogenic super-emitters detected by remote sensing (mainly oil and gas sector but also coal, agriculture, and landfills) to improve source partitioning.

Earth System Science Data↗

Summary of November 2010 meeting to evaluate turbidite data for constraining the recurrence parameters of great Cascadia earthquakes for the update of national seismic hazard maps

This report summarizes a meeting of geologists, marine sedimentologists, geophysicists, and seismologists that was held on November 18–19, 2010 at Oregon State University in Corvallis, Oregon. The overall goal of the meeting was to evaluate observations of turbidite deposits to provide constraints on the recurrence time and rupture extent of great Cascadia subduction zone (CSZ) earthquakes for the next update of the U.S. national seismic hazard maps (NSHM). The meeting was convened at Oregon State University because this is the major center for collecting and evaluating turbidite evidence of great Cascadia earthquakes by Chris Goldfinger and his colleagues. We especially wanted the participants to see some of the numerous deep sea cores this group has collected that contain the turbidite deposits. Great earthquakes on the CSZ pose a major tsunami, ground-shaking, and ground-failure hazard to the Pacific Northwest. Figure 1 shows a map of the Pacific Northwest with a model for the rupture zone of a moment magnitude M w 9.0 earthquake on the CSZ and the ground shaking intensity (in ShakeMap format) expected from such an earthquake, based on empirical ground-motion prediction equations. The damaging effects of such an earthquake would occur over a wide swath of the Pacific Northwest and an accompanying tsunami would likely cause devastation along the Pacifc Northwest coast and possibly cause damage and loss of life in other areas of the Pacific. A magnitude 8 earthquake on the CSZ would cause damaging ground shaking and ground failure over a substantial area and could also generate a destructive tsunami. The recent tragic occurrence of the 2011 M w 9.0 Tohoku-Oki, Japan, earthquake highlights the importance of having accurate estimates of the recurrence times and magnitudes of great earthquakes on subduction zones. For the U.S. national seismic hazard maps, estimating the hazard from the Cascadia subduction zone has been based on coastal paleoseismic evidence of great earthquakes over the past 5,000 years. The instrumental catalog of earthquakes is of little use for constraining the hazard of the CSZ, because there are virtually no recorded earthquakes on most of the plate interface of the CSZ. There are no historical accounts in the past 150 years of large earthquakes on most of the CSZ. Until about 20 years ago, some interpreted this lack of recent and historical earthquakes as an indicator that the subduction zone was slipping aseismically and could not produce a great earthquake. The work of Brian Atwater and others, in the late 1980s and the 1990s (Atwater, 1987, 1992; Atwater and others, 1995; Nelson and others, 1996; Clague, 1997; Atwater and Hemphill-Haley, 1997; Atwater and others, 2004) demonstrated that submerged forests, buried soils, tsunami deposits, and liquefaction along and near the coast were compelling evidence of repeated great Cascadia earthquakes over at least the past 5,000 years. Atwater and Hemphill-Haley (1997) concluded from paleoseismic evidence at Willapa Bay, Washington, that great earthquakes ruptured the CSZ with an average recurrence time of about 500 years. The date of the last great CSZ earthquake, January 26, 1700, was established from historical records of the so-called orphan tsunami in Japan that is inferred to have been produced by this earthquake (Satake and others, 1996, 2003; Atwater and others, 2005) and is consistent with tree-ring data from drowned forests in Washington and Oregon. From modeling the observations of the tsunami, Satake and others (2003) estimated a moment magnitude of about 9.0 for this earthquake. Many other paleoseismic sites have been investigated along the Pacific Northwest coast from Vancouver Island to northern California and show evidence of great CSZ earthquakes. Nelson and others (2006) summarized the dates found from these studies and proposed correlations between sites indicating the extent of rupture for individual events. Dating of inferred tsunami deposits in Bradley Lake, Oregon by Kelsey and others (2005), as well as tsunami and subsidence evidence from Six Rivers, Oregon (Kelsey and others, 2002) and Coquille River (Witter and others, 2003), indicates that there were probably M w 8 ruptures in the southern portion of the CSZ in addition to the M w 9 events that rupture the whole length of the CSZ (Nelson and others, 2006). A parallel development over the past 20 years or more is the use of deep-sea turbidite deposits for identifying and dating great Cascadia earthquakes over the past 10,000 years (Adams, 1990; Goldfinger and others, 2003, 2008, in press; Goldfinger, 2011). Turbidites are sediment deposits in the deep ocean from turbidity currents, which are energetic flows of sediment and water along the continental shelf and slope. Adams (1990), using the counts of turbidites in deep-sea cores off the coast of Oregon and Washington collected and analyzed by Griggs (1969) and Griggs and others (1969), proposed that these turbidites were caused by the shaking of great Cascadia earthquakes. Part of his reasoning was that the number (13) of turbidite deposits that occurred since deposition of the Mazama Ash 7,000 years ago gave a recurrence time of about 500 years, consistent with that derived from the coastal submergence data. Adams (1990) also proposed the “confluence test” which evaluates the number of turbidites for submarine channels that form a confluence. He reported that the number of turbidites in the single downstream channel equaled the number in each of the tributary channels. He reasoned that this indicated that the turbidites in each tributary were simultaneously triggered and were, therefore, caused by a common forcing agent. He concluded that shaking from extended ruptures of great Cascadia earthquakes was the most likely cause of these turbidites. Based on the paleoseismic evidence of past great earthquakes, the hazard from the Cascadia subduction zone was included in the 1996 U.S. NSHM (Frankel and others, 1996), which were the basis for seismic provisions in the 2000 International Building Code. These hazard maps used the paleoseismic studies to constrain the recurrence rate of great CSZ earthquakes. Goldfinger and his colleagues have since collected many more deep ocean cores and done extensive analysis on the turbidite deposits that they identified in the cores (Goldfinger and others, 2003, 2008, in press; Goldfinger, 2011). Using their dating of the sediments and correlation of features in the logs of density and magnetic susceptibility between cores, they developed a detailed chronology of great earthquakes along the CSZ for the past 10,000 years (Goldfinger and others, in press). These correlations consist of attempting to match the peaks and valleys in logs of density and magnetic susceptibility between cores separated, in some cases, by hundreds of kilometers. Based on this work, Goldfinger and others (2003, 2008, in press) proposed that the turbidite evidence indicated the occurrence of great earthquakes (M w 8) that only ruptured the southern portion of the CSZ, as well as earthquakes with about M w 9 that ruptured the entire length of the CSZ. For the southernmost portion of the CSZ, Goldfinger and others (in press) proposed a recurrence time of M w 8 or larger earthquakes of about 230 years. This proposed recurrence time was shorter than the 500 year time that was incorporated in one scenario in the NSHM’s. It is important to note that the hazard maps of 1996 and later also included a scenario or set of scenarios with a shorter recurrence time for M w 8 earthquakes, using rupture zones that are distributed along the length of the CSZ (Frankel and others, 1996; Petersen and others, 2008). Originally, this scenario was meant to correspond to the idea that some of the 500-year averaged ruptures seen in the paleoseismic evidence could have been a series of M w 8 earthquakes that occurred over a short period of time (a few decades), rather than M w 9 earthquakes. Figure 2 shows the logic tree for the CSZ used in the 2008 NSHM’s (Petersen and others, 2008). This logic tree includes whole CSZ rupture earthquakes (M w 8.8–9.2) and partial CSZ rupture earthquakes (M w 8.0–8.7). In this latest version of the NSHM’s, the effective recurrence time of earthquakes on the CSZ with moment magnitudes greater than or equal to 8.0 over the various models is about 270 years (Petersen and others, 2008). This recurrence time applies to the entire CSZ, so that the hazard from great earthquakes was approximately equal along the whole zone, although the hazard estimates taper on the northern and southern ends of the CSZ, because of the way rupture zones of M w 8 earthquakes were distributed along the strike of the CSZ. The NSHM will be updated in 2013, as part of the standard update cycle that corresponds to the update cycle of the national model building codes that are based on the seismic hazard maps. A meeting was necessary to assemble a wide group of experts to hear Dr. Goldfinger explain his methodology for dating and correlating the turbidites and for developing the earthquake chronology. The overall goal of the workshop was to evaluate observations of turbidite deposits to provide constraints on the recurrence times and rupture extents of great Cascadia subduction zone earthquakes for the next update of the NSHM. Before the meeting, participants were supplied with the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) Professional Paper of Goldfinger and others (in press), as well as material from Brian Atwater and Alan Nelson. The agenda of the meeting was developed by Art Frankel, with assistance from Chris Goldfinger, Brian Atwater, Alan Nelson, Mark Petersen, and Craig Weaver. The meeting was hosted by Chris Goldfinger of Oregon State University. We stress that it is difficult to evaluate in a two-day meeting the large amount of work that Goldfinger and his colleagues have done over the past 15 years or more. This meeting is the first step in a process that develops the inputs to the update of the national maps. The conclusions of this workshop will be discussed and possibly modified at the regional Pacific Northwest workshop for the hazard maps to be held in early 2012. Vetting new research results using informed expert opinion is an integral part of updating the national maps and does not reflect on the veracity of these results.

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