What you do is wait and minimize all physical exposure. All volcanoes are inherently dangerous even if it is only theoretical as in a dormant volcano. What bothers me here is that a large plug is now subsiding at a rate of one foot per day. This is obviously unsustainable and it must end.
If we are lucky, it will just end. The good news is that it is not rising and we must presume that hydraulic movement is simply readjusting things. Yet it can break up, though that is likely a diminishing risk. Regardless it is all on the move.
The fact remains that Iceland can horrify. When it does, we are not really in a good position to counter those effects. Can you imagine moving half of Europeans population to the Mediterranean? We actually tried to do mostly just that once in 1159 BC.
Pressure, and Mystery, on the Rise
Predicting Volcanoes’ Activity Is Tricky, and for Iceland, Nerve-Racking
SKAFTAFELL,
Iceland — Just north of here, on the far side of the impenetrable
Vatnajokull ice sheet, lava is spewing from a crack in the earth on the
flanks of Bardarbunga, one of Iceland’s largest volcanoes.
By
volcanologists’ standards, it is a peaceful eruption, the lava merely
spreading across the landscape as gases bubble out of it. For now, those
gases — especially sulfur dioxide, which can cause respiratory and
other problems — are the main concern, prompting health advisories in
the capital, Reykjavik, 150 miles to the west, and elsewhere around the
country.
But
sometime soon, the top of Bardarbunga, which lies under as much as half
a mile of ice, may erupt explosively. That could send plumes of gritty
ash into the sky that could shut down air travel across Europe because
of the damage the ash can do to jet engines. And it could unleash a
torrent of glacial meltwater that could wipe out the only road
connecting southern Iceland to the capital.
All of that could happen. Then again, it may not.
Such
are the mysteries of volcanoes that more than four months after
Bardarbunga began erupting, scientists here are still debating what will
happen next. The truth is, no one really knows.
Volcanic
eruptions are among the earth’s most cataclysmic events, and
understanding how and when they happen can be crucial to saving lives
and reducing damage to infrastructure and other property. Scientists
have several powerful tools to help, but in the end, they are often
reduced to analyzing possibilities within possibilities, chains of
potential events that could unfold in multiple ways.
“Volcanoes
are really difficult to predict because they are so nonlinear,” said
Pall Einarsson, a geophysicist at the University of Iceland. “They can
suddenly decide to do something very different.”
Dr.
Einarsson studies the earthquakes that usually accompany volcanic
activity, caused by hot rock, or magma, rising within the earth and
creating stresses and fractures. Seismic monitoring is essential for
helping to determine if and when an eruption will occur and how it will
proceed, but scientists also study the deformation of a volcano’s
surface — a sign of increasing pressure within — using G.P.S. units and
satellite-based radar, and they also monitor gases and other indicators
like the melting of snow or ice.
“Ideally
it’s a nice combination of data from many disciplines,” said Stephanie
Prejean, a research geophysicist with the United States Geological
Survey at the Alaska Volcano Observatory. “And it’s easiest if the
things are all escalating together, and escalating dramatically.”
Over
the past decade, Dr. Prejean said, the observatory has successfully
forecast eruptions about two-thirds of the time for the more than two
dozen volcanoes that are seismically monitored (of 130 total). In
Iceland, home to 35 active volcanoes, scientists have had about the same
success rate, Dr. Einarsson said.
The improvements in monitoring and studying volcanoes, as well as the fact that Earth’s
growing population has put more people in harm’s way, may contribute to
the sense that more volcanoes are erupting now than in the past. But
scientists see no real trend.
Eruptions that come out of the blue can be particularly deadly. In September, 57 hikers were killed in central Japan when Mount Ontake
suddenly started spewing hot ash, cinders and rocks. Volcanologists
think rising magma hit groundwater, which turned instantly to steam and
caused the explosion. There were no significant earthquakes or other
signs that might have suggested an eruption was imminent and prompted
authorities to close the popular mountain trails.
Scientists
can sometimes have a general idea that a volcano is due to erupt, but a
sudden event dictates the precise timing. At Mount St. Helens in
Washington in 1980, scientists knew for months that an eruption was
likely — for one thing, the north side of the mountain had started to
expand like a balloon as rising magma increased the pressure inside.
Then
on May 18, an earthquake caused the north face to collapse in a massive
landslide. The weight of all that rock had helped to keep the magma
contained; once it was gone, the volcano erupted immediately, killing 57
people, some more than 10 miles away.
Mount
St. Helens was the most destructive eruption in American history — it
also wiped out nearly 200 miles of roads — but others could be worse.
Mount Rainier, for example, is just 50 miles from Seattle, and an
eruption there would probably produce devastating floods of volcanic
ash, water and rock. (The huge Yellowstone volcanic system
in Wyoming has received a lot of attention for its potential to cause a
climate-altering disaster, but scientists say the probability of such
an event is exceedingly small for a given year.)
In
Iceland, scientists knew in mid-August that something was happening at
Bardarbunga, which had last erupted in 1910. Seismometers began
recording a swarm of small earthquakes, eventually numbering in the
thousands, on the north side of the volcano. This was a clear sign that
magma was beginning to intrude into a fissure perhaps five or six miles
below the surface.
Although
this was happening in a part of the volcano covered by the glacier,
scientists could tell that the magma was moving horizontally and mostly
to the northeast along the fissure, because the centers of the
earthquakes were moving, too. Until Aug. 29, the magma was underground,
but on that date reached the surface on Bardarbunga’s northern flank.
The magma — which is called lava when it is above ground — spewed out in
red-hot fountains.
The
eruption, which is off limits to nearly everyone except researchers,
has continued since then. As of the end of the year, it had involved
close to 2 billion cubic yards of lava — enough to fill about a thousand
large football stadiums — that had spread out across 30 square miles.
According to a paper
published in mid-December in the journal Nature, the spreading
underground magma — creating what volcanologists call a dike — extended
more than 27 miles before erupting.
Freysteinn Sigmundsson, a University of Iceland geophysicist who coordinated the study, said the seismic information, as well as extensive deformation data, showed that the dike grew in fits and starts through the fissure, which although deep was less than two yards wide. The magma would hit a barrier — essentially a narrowing of the fissure — which would cause the pressure to build up until it was great enough that the magma would overcome the barrier and keep moving.
“Think of it as a subsurface stream that comes to a dam,” Dr. Sigmundsson said. “Eventually, it simply breaks the dam.”
For
now, the eruption remains what volcanologists call an effusive one —
the lava, consisting primarily of molten basalt, is thin enough that the
gases bubble out with little explosive force. And the amounts of sulfur
dioxide and other gases, while a concern locally, are nowhere near the
amounts produced by an eruption at a fissure called Laki in the 1780s.
In that event, the gases poisoned livestock across Iceland, leading to a
famine that killed about a quarter of the country’s population and had
other effects in Europe and elsewhere.
One
possibility is that the current eruption will eventually peter out as
the source of magma is depleted. “Maybe the most likely scenario is
something similar to what we’ve been seeing,” Dr. Sigmundsson said. But
that could take a while; although the volume of lava has declined, it
has done so only very gradually, he said, suggesting the eruption could
continue for many months.
But
there are many other possibilities. Bardarbunga sits at the heart of a
complex system of volcanoes and “has a history of affecting its
neighbors,” Dr. Einarsson said. Were the dike to continue moving to the
northeast, he said, it could set off an eruption at the nearby Askja
volcano, although that seems less likely.
Of
greater concern is what is happening at Bardarbunga’s caldera, the
wide, deep valley at the top of the mountain that is filled with
hardened magma from past eruptive activity. Earthquake data and G.P.S.
measurements show that this hardened magma, which acts like a plug, is
sinking, probably as the hot magma below it escapes through the fissure
to the north. The subsidence is astonishingly rapid, about a foot a day,
and the question is how much more of this the plug can take before it
breaks up.
“As
of now, the system seems to be relatively stable,” Dr. Einarsson said.
“But it’s almost certain that this can’t last very long, and that’s what
people are worried about. Because this plug is bound to disintegrate as
it moves so much.”
If
the plug cracks apart, the hot magma below would have a new, easier
path to the surface — straight up — where it would combine with ice to
cause a steam-magma explosion. Such an eruption could create a large
plume of ash that could disrupt air travel, as the eruption at another Icelandic volcano did in 2010.
Its effects on the surrounding region could be catastrophic as well,
with glacial meltwater collecting in the caldera until it overflows,
causing a vast flood.
That
has happened countless times in Iceland’s geological history, and it is
what created the eerie skeidararsandur, the vast delta west of
Skaftafell that resembles the surface of the moon, as floodwaters
brought huge quantities of black volcanic sand down from the mountains.
The
skeidararsandur could take the brunt of a flood again, although it
would depend on precisely where the eruption occurred. A short distance
this way or that, and the floodwaters might flow to the north, or even
to the west — an especially troubling possibility given that several hydroelectric dams responsible for much of Iceland’s electricity could be damaged or destroyed.
“One
can never be absolutely certain about predicting,” Dr. Einarsson said.
“So we have to line up all the possible scenarios and stretch our
imaginations to figure out what could possibly happen.”
“If
these things were nicely behaved,” he added, “you’d just pour out this
lava up there and the volcano would run out of pressure and that would
be it.”
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