Deadly Science

By LARA MARLOWE

What little volcanologists have learned over the centuries has come at a fearsome price. Beginning in A.D. 79, when the Roman scientist Pliny the Elder was killed while observing an eruption of Mount Vesuvius, volcanology has been one of the world's more dangerous fields of study. Over the past 11 years, sudden eruptions -- including major blasts in Colombia, Mexico and the Philippines -- have killed an estimated 26,000 people; since 1979 at least 12 scientists have perished while seeking to plumb the fiery mysteries.

Last month, to improve methods for predicting eruptions and thus save lives, 90 scientists from around the world gathered for a U.N.-sponsored conference in the southwestern Colombian city of Pasto. New techniques for detecting pre- eruption changes in the composition of vented gases had shown theoretical promise, and the scientists hoped to test them on Galeras, an active volcano several miles to the west that had not erupted since July 1992. Once again though, the insights of science were employed too late to be effective.

On the morning of Jan. 14, Stanley Williams, a U.S. volcanologist from Arizona State University, led a team of nine other scientists to the 13,680- ft. summit. Williams stayed on the rim and watched as two colleagues clambered down ropes toward the volcano's inner cone -- Nestor Garcia, a Colombian, to set up a temperature probe; Igor Menyailov, a Russian, to sample gases coming out of vents. Williams and Menyailov, who had taught himself English by listening to Elvis Presley records, had been friends since they first met in 1982 on a volcano watch in Nicaragua. "Igor was excited because he was using a new device," Williams recalled last week from a hospital in Phoenix, Arizona. "He was smoking a cigarette, and he was all happy." Andrew McFarlane, of Florida International University, had just taken a snapshot of the two men when, without the slightest warning, the ground heaved and the mountain erupted.

"The volcano seemed to take a big breath, first sucking in air, then exploding," said a Colombian tourist who survived unhurt. Garcia and Menyailov died in an instant in the 600 degreesC blast of toxic gases. On the western rim of the cone, British geologist Geoffrey Brown and two Colombian colleagues were also incinerated as gas and heat spurted upward.

"After seeing those people die," Williams recalled last week, "I just said 'Goddammit, I don't want to die,' and I started running as fast as I could." Scrambling down the slippery, ash-coated outer slope of the cone, he and three other scientists were bombarded with boulders the size of TV sets. "They split open when they hit the ground," said McFarlane. "Inside they were glowing red." One of the flying boulders crushed to death Colombian geochemist Jose Arles Zapata. Williams was felled as well, but managed to drag himself to partial shelter behind a huge rock.

Williams and Mike Conway, from Michigan Technological University, said the thought of their wives and children made them determined to survive; McFarlane remembers wishing he had told his aging father that he loved him. "I was sure we were all going to die," he said. "The violence was shocking. Nature doesn't care -- there was no mercy out there."

Stunned by a skull fracture, blinded by blood flowing down his forehead, his hands scorched, McFarlane at first tried to carry Williams, whose jaw and both legs were broken. "I was dazed from the impact and I was too weak to carry him, so I just kept running," said McFarlane. "I felt pretty guilty. I was very glad he made it." When rescuers finally reached the four survivors two hours later, they found Williams' backpack, altimeter and sunglasses melted and $6,000 in traveler's checks burned in his pocket. Somehow he was alive.

Conway was the only survivor able to walk away from Galeras; on his way out, he passed the body of a dead tourist whose shirt was still on fire. The fourth survivor, Ecuadoran scientist Luis Lamarie, had to be carried out on a stretcher.

After learning of the deaths of their six colleagues and the three Colombian tourists, many of the volcanologists attending the Pasto conference quietly left. The few who remained for the final session completed proposals to pursue gravity and gas analysis forecasting. The deaths on the mountain also led them to call for more rigorous safety measures on volcanic sites -- and to demand an end to tourism at Galeras. Visitors are no longer permitted to approach the volcano.

Williams is recovering. His jaw is wired shut, and doctors will graft bone from his pelvis to replace crushed leg bones. The explosion, he says, "shows how unpredictable these volcanos are, even for so-called experts like ourselves." He relives Galeras in nightmares; yet he feels driven to find more answers. He says he will resume his work.

With reporting by Patrick E. Cole/Phoenix and Tom Quinn/Bogota