GalapagosQuest: Journey to the heart of a volcano

Without his horse, Trixie, John never would have made it to the top of Sierra Negra      RELATED VIDEO Real 28K      MORE REPORTS Day 20:End of a Journey Day 19:Nature Notes Day 18:Our Connection ... Day 17:The real final frontier Day 16:Islands in Danger? Day 15:Forests at the Edge Day 14:Swimming with Day 13:Hellos and Goodbyes Day 12:Journey to the heart Day 11:Learning in a pinch Day 10:Gringo Guides Day 9:Survival Issues Day 8:Gross,Warty.. Day 7:Water Scarcity Day 6:Should I have... Day 5:Arrival and Survival Day 4:The Hood Mockingbird Day 3:Lethal Charm Day 2:Flames in the Ocean Day 1:Off to a Bad Start

By John Fox

March 16, 1999
Web posted at: 3:11 p.m. EST (2011 GMT)

(Classroom Connect) -- Volcanic eruptions are both beautiful and terrifying. From a distance you can appreciate them. From up close you can only run for your life.

In the last 16 years more than 200 volcanoes across the world have erupted, killing a total of 30,000 people. The other day, I got as close to a volcanic eruption as I'm likely to get. I lived to tell of it, but after my experience, I don't think I'd like to get any closer ...

Here in the Galapagos Islands you climb volcanoes the old-fashioned way -- by horseback. I grew up in the Bronx, and my experience on horses is pretty much limited to riding merry-go-rounds as a kid. Now I find myself sitting on a tired white horse trying to figure out how to make her go. I kick, shake the reins, make up a name (Trixie) and call her by it -- no luck. Then our guide makes a quiet little sound like "chi-chi" and she tears off, leaving my hat back in the dust, right behind my pride. My adventures have begun.

Sierra Negra, on the southern end of Isabela, is the largest and one of the most active volcanoes in the islands. It's one of six volcanoes that form Isabela, and it last erupted 20 years ago. From a distance it's impressive, looming threateningly over the sleepy fishing port of Villamil.

After a painful hour by horse and another by foot, we're rewarded by a spectacular view of the second largest caldera in the world. This crater, caused by the collapse of the volcano's peak, is about seven miles across and 400 feet deep. Back in 1968 the caldera of Fernandina's volcano dropped a thousand feet in a few days after a small eruption. The explosion could be heard 30 miles away.

From the top we trek down the side of the volcano to the site of the last eruption. For miles we walk across a landscape right out of Star Trek. Waves of lava frozen in place, craters and tunnels where lava once spewed and bubbled, hot enough to kill anything in its path. A few cacti struggle to survive in cracks where soils have begun to form. Lava lizards skitter about, true to their name. Otherwise, no signs of life.

John ponders the fumarole as it gives off sulphuric gases

When volcanoes erupt, red-hot lava spills out of the crater at temperatures greater than 2,000 degrees F. As it flows downhill like a fiery river, it begins to slow down and cool, like wax from a candle. The surface 'skin' cools the fastest, and the boiling lava beneath buckles the surface into ropey shapes. They call this 'pahoehoe' lava (Hawaiian for 'ropey'). Sometimes the hot lava consumes trees, destroying them instantly, and leaving an imprint of their bark in the cooled rock. Animals caught in the flow are quickly barbecued.

Fortunately, nobody in the Galapagos has ever been killed in an eruption. That's because the eruptions here aren't explosive and there's usually time to escape. When volcanoes do erupt, lava bubbles over the edges of the crater like boiling milk out of a covered pot. Back in 1825 a ship was anchored in Fernandina's harbor, dangerously close to a major eruption. The captain described how "the heavens appeared to be one blaze of fire, intermingled with millions of falling stars and meteors." The water and the air rose to 150 degrees F, sailors began to pass out, and the tar on the ship began to melt!

At the end of our trail, we finally arrive at the living heart of the volcano. There, in front of me, are several gaping holes in the earth, belching yellow sulphur-smelling gas into the sky. No, it's not Dan's butt! These are fumaroles, or volcanic vents. Fumaroles continue to 'smoke' many years after eruptions when a volcano is still alive and active at its core. For several minutes I stand frozen by the edge of one of these vents, staring in awe into the hot darkness at the center of the volcano. My foot slips, causing a small avalanche of stones that never seem to hit bottom.

I take two steps back, breathe deeply, and walk away. I've climbed an active volcano, looked straight into its heart, and survived. Now it's time to face perhaps the greatest danger yet ... the horse ride home!

Rock on!

John

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