New Issue: Orbital Catastrophe Ahead? Read Now

Why bits of continents keep turning up in the middle of oceans

It turns out that continental breakups are just as messy as human ones, with the events leaving fragments scattered far from home

A person snorkels along a reef in the Red Sea with Zabargad Island of Egypt seen in the background

Zabargad Island in the Red Sea is part of a geological curiosity in which bits of continental crust are found surrounded by oceanic crust in places where Earth is rifting apart.

Reinhard Dirscherl/Ullstein Bild via Getty Images

Join Our Community of Science Lovers!

All around the world, from the Red Sea to the deep ocean ridges of the Atlantic, lurk more than a dozen geological misfits. These scraps of continental crust are found in the middle of oceans, sometimes hundreds of miles from the nearest continent. Scientists have been mystified for decades by how they came to be there; the fragments “were even used as an argument against plate tectonics,” says João Duarte, a geologist at the University of Lisbon in Portugal.

But a recent study in Nature Geoscience suggests that these misplaced fragments fit just fine within our understanding of plate tectonics and actually trace back to the chaotic first moments of the breakup of ancient supercontinents. As a continent begins to unzip—as is happening now at the Red Sea—narrow fault zones can isolate small chunks of continental crust, marooning them on a raft of newly formed oceanic crust.

When continents break apart, they form new plate boundaries at what are called mid-ocean spreading centers: magma-gurgling conveyor belts that create new oceanic crust and drive continents apart. The black expanse of thin, dense and relatively young basalt from those centers stands in stark contrast to thicker, more buoyant continental crust, which is primarily granite but contains the full gamut of sedimentary, metamorphic, and igneous rocks and can be billions of years old. So when scientists discovered slivers of much older continental crust surrounded by younger oceanic material, something didn’t add up.


On supporting science journalism

If you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.


When looking at the out-of-place pieces of continental crust, researchers eventually noticed a pattern: continental scraps turned up at transform faults, where mid-ocean ridges kink at right angles and crustal blocks slide past one another perpendicular to the ridges. To sort out what was happening, Attila Balázs, a geophysicist at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich, and his colleagues used high-resolution, three-dimensional computer models to put the continents back together again.

When several landmasses collided to form the supercontinent Pangea long before the dinosaurs, Earth’s crust shattered into discrete blocks and folded like a rug pushed against a wall, rising to form mountains spanning from the Appalachians to the Atlas. “It’s a bit like breaking a plate or dropping a glass. There will be many fractured and weak zones,” Balázs says. When the tectonic plates began to pull apart millions of years later, those ancient faults at their edges reawakened, reincarnated as transform faults.

The continental castaways that had stumped geologists formed under specific conditions as the continents pulled apart: the first requirement was that continents split slowly at an oblique angle to each other. As the continents sheared and twisted unevenly, local forces squeezed together thin ribbons of crust and popped them up like geological meerkats, isolating and slicing them off. Finally some magma emerged during the process but not so much that it melted the slivers away. With these rare conditions satisfied, chunks of continental crust rode along these rejuvenated faults and drifted into new ocean basins. The process, Balázs says, takes up to 30 million years to unfold.

Susanne Buiter, a geophysicist at GFZ Helmholtz Center for Geosciences in Germany, who was not involved in the study, says the new three-dimensional model helps to reconcile a long-standing mystery. Classic plate tectonic theory assumed that continents broke apart cleanly, but “maybe the breakup is not always so clean,” she says.

Subscribe to Support Independent Journalism

Great science journalism requires human expertise, time, effort and creativity. And it costs money. That’s why I and the journalists here at Scientific American hope you’ll join our community.

When you subscribe, you are supporting staff and freelance journalists who are passionate about telling science stories that are true, important and compelling. Our editors and reporters are often experts in their fields, which means they understand the nuances of big discoveries and can untangle the breakthroughs from the hype. With a subscription, you are also supporting rigorous fact-checking to ensure the words we publish are precise and accurate. And you’re supporting original illustrations, graphics and photos that bring you closer to an advanced laboratory, an ice sheet in Antarctica or a space mission in orbit. You’re helping us craft other types of high-quality journalism as well: Our newsletters are carefully written, edited and curated by staffers you have or will come to know and love. Our Science Quickly podcast is based on original reporting, collaboration with editors and scientists and exacting production.

Subscriptions keep this engine running so we can continue to deliver thoughtful, rigorous and independent science journalism to you. In an era of viral misinformation, this work is crucial. If you value what we do, I hope you’ll consider joining us as a subscriber

Thank you,

Jeanna Bryner, Editor in Chief, Scientific American

Subscribe