Volcano Fieldwork Part 2

February 17-20th: What is this rocky prairie? This photo was taken just seconds before the clouds moved in completely to take away the view of the summit dome. My volcanological companions and I visited Volcan Baru´s amphitheater during an uncharacteristically rainy week. After exploring the area of La Yeguada with PCVs Karinne and Noah, we took the Interamericana, headed west, then drove due north to the volcano. This was a good time to visit the largest known debris avalanche in Central America. The photo above is a view into the amphitheater of Volcan Baru. We are standing on a lahar surface and looking roughly East up into the dome complex. Too bad about the weather, the summit antennas are already hidden by the incoming rain.

Since we had the benefit of several great geological minds, we took time to look at a phenomenon very different than lava flows. Debris avalanches are dramatic, but very rare events at volcanoes. By rare, I mean that they don´t happen every day but many volcanoes around the world have collapse features like what you can see at Baru. Some preliminary studies describe this particular deposit as the largest in Central America. What does that mean? At this point it just means that a whole lot of mountain fell down many thousands of years ago.

Want to know more about hummocks? Go here: USGS VHP

Events like this are very interesting for a number of reasons but I´m interested in them because they scoop out a volcano and create new terrain. After walking around Mount St. Helens for a while in 2004, I developed a particular interest in the features called hummocks. They represent coherent blocks that tumbled, slid, or floated along with the rest of the debris that made up the flanks of a volcano. Here´s one outcrop of a hummock but it represents a blocky phase and lacks the multicolored characteristic typical of most hummocks:

(Bill, Guillermo, and Karinne for scale)

In the fan of deposits from Baru, you can find these hummocks and start to get an idea of how the collapse took place- this could be good thesis material.

Thanks for taking the time to visit and brainstorm project plans, everybody - this was a valuable series of fieldtrips!

Volcano Fieldwork Part 1

February 13-16th:
First few visits were to the Cerro Colorado region (Comarca highlands) and later Volcan Baru (to Boquete unfortunately during the same time as the jazz festival; no time to listen to music!).

We weren´t sure exactly which peak was Cerro Colorado, but we sure found the copper mine area easily. The view here is roughly south looking out from the terraced area where mining might continue in the future. We found some interesting deposits that we didn´t quite expect here; there were layers of pumice that must have come down from a volcano located higher up in the mountains. Where? Not sure yet, but for us, the pumice is far more interesting than measely copper veins!

After the quick visits in Chiriqui, we visited La Yeguada volcano in Veraguas. Before reaching the dome complexes, we stopped at a river crossing.

Here I am pointing at a kettle-like feature in the surface of a highly-jointed (entablatured jointing) ignimbrite.

We debated if this was a very glassy andesitic lava flow, but there are flow bands and compacted pumices (fiamme) within the unit. This is an interesting outcrop to study but also intreguing for the artistic eye.

The visit to La Yeguada provided a glimpse of what Karinne had been working with - heaping dacitic domes in an ill-defined crater with a poorly constrained age. This is a difficult field area...

Colima, Mexico '07

May - August 2007

Just after the spring semester ended at MTU (May 2007), I took up an internship at the University of Colima, Mexico. Reminiscent of the good old days at the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory, I met a great group of people researching various aspects of an active volcano. Volcan de Colima is one of the most active volcanoes in Mexico but is poorly understood. The current foci of study are: infrasound, thermal, gas, and ash. A full-fledged observatory doesn't exist to track changes at Colima, but various groups are working to collect data to monitor the hazards. With time, it should be possible to develop a cohesive program of complimentary research and monitoring that will communicate effectively with Proteccion Civil and decision-makers.

Over the course of the summer, many interns came and went and, in Andrew's words shared: "scars and stories."

Incoming students brought various backgrounds while semi-permanent interns generously became mentors to lead fieldwork. Regular trips to the temporary radar site at Monte Grande (on the lower flank of Colima) and to the summit of Nevado (the immediate neighbor of Colima, a high peak almost level with the volcano) allowed us to do hands-on fieldwork and monitoring. The station located near the summit of Nevado was a perfect observation site; the Proteccion Civil staff was very welcoming and generous with their support. Not only did they facilitate our trips up the long, often gouged-out road through the park, they lent out space to stay overnight and fill up the common spaces with bulky gear. Muchas gracias a Rojo y los otros Superheroes!

Hoping to build on my experiences of geological mapping, instrument installation, and general volcanic monitoring, I joined as many field trips as possible. This was an important opportunity to compare an andesitic volcano with what I have already learned about Hawaiian volcanoes and Mount St. Helens. One of the primary differences on my mind was the frequency and impact of lahars at Colima. Having just arrived in Mexico at the end of their dry season, odds were good that I'd be able to investigate fresh deposits. Not a fan of gambling and slowly learning that monitoring efforts were planned a bit differently than expected, my hopes to study active lahars fell through, but late in the summer I witnessed my first lahar while in the field with 5 other students.


We had just arrived at the Monte Grande site when an intense rain (and thunder/lightning) storm closed in. After assembling the gear under tarps and boxes, the 6 of us sheltered under the remaining tarp as a strong rain blew down and whipped around us. The Monte Grande site is a low dome on the volcano's flank cut on both sides by two ravines (barrancas). Safely situated high on the rise, the radar, rain gage, and other instruments (like the permanent infrasound sensors we were going to install) occupy a relatively small area on the rise. After at least 15 minutes (and feeling more and more chilly with each minute), we suddenly heard some rumbling. Thunder wouldn't have lasted so long and wouldn't have sounded like it was getting louder... "I think there's a lahar!" As soon as we realized there was a chance to observe the event, we dropped the tarp and raced to get a view.

Our first view was of the northern barranca and we pushed through the brush and shrubs to see that, yes, a muddy slurry was racing through the ravine. Parts of the confining walls were becoming undercut as the flow scraped by, but a better view was waiting in the other barranca. The barranca on the opposite side of Monte Grande was deeper and already cut down into the old, dense lava flows. It was here that we saw the lahar flowing, rolling, spitting, and eventually cascading down what was our primary trail back to the parked truck. The photo to the left was taken by Emma as we tried posing in front of the nickpoint where the lahar gushed in an impressive cascade. Yes, we were definitely soaking wet!

The internship at Colima was a very mixed experience. I am sincerely grateful for all of the support from Steve and Gemma and the chance to have some adventures with Flo, Andrew, and the other interns. The birthday trips were fantastic: Flo, I think you had the best plan! Over the course of the summer we trekked out (by bus) to the beach, Guadalajara, Tequila, and Patzcuaro, but the best trip was to Paricutin to celebrate your birthday (and not just the best because we visited another volcano!).

After taking a night bus from Colima, we arrived in a tiny town at 6:30 or so in the morning. We weren't quite sure how to proceed, but a man leading a couple of horses immediately got our attention. He approached us and offered to organize a visit to the summit of Paricutin, the young cinder cone famous for exploding out of someone's cornfield. The offer was to ride horses around the thick lava flows, reach the summit, then return by passing by the inundated church near the volcano's base. Yes! We'll do it!

The trip was a strange adventure: we were weighed down by our backpacks (should've left them behind...), had the trail to ourselves all morning, my horse tripped and rolled us into the road, we galloped at Flo's whim, heard debates whether my horse's name was "Guapo" or "Pinata," photographed each other in the volcano's steam, skied down Paricutin's flank in our sneakers, were caught in an aguacero (sudden rainstorm as we were returning), roamed around the lava-filled church after crossing over the a`a, moaned as we tried to remount the horses because our backsides were so sore, and took some time to enjoy the central plaza of the tiny town.

The city of Colima also provided other adventures: I made several trips to the local ruins, explored the various corners of the old city and saw the still-broken remains of buildings shaken by earthquakes. There was a little time to visit some museums but it was so much more fun to be outside in the city - people watching and absorbing some of the lifestyle was definitely a highlight of my 3 months in Mexico. I had never seen so many people meticulously sweep their gardens and clean their sidewalks with such care. I would visit the yogurt shop just to hear the man tell me: "Si, hay fresa." with his expressive voice and buy bread from the woman who was also the one to explain that estampillas, not timbres can only be bought at the correo.

This was my first visit to Mexio: without a doubt, I will have to return someday. Despite the chance to travel so far north as _ and as far south as Acapulco, my experience was restricted to the west side of the country. A trip to Mexico City, to the famous ruins of the Yucatan, and to the northern canyons will have to wait for another year.

Michigan Tech '06

The Year On Campus 06-07

The PCMI program (Peace Corps Master's International) on campus is actually fairly old. I learned that the Forestry Department and the Engineers (both Civil and Environmental) have been collaborating with the PC for more than 10 years. Currently, the university is developing a Science Education program that will also partner with Peace Corps, but for the moment, the Geology Department is the youngest MI program on campus. We're the pioneers: Woohoo!
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The autumn weather in this part of the world is beautiful. Upper Peninsula weather is "special" and most would agree it's a bit infamous, but before the layers of snow close in, the warm September days are powerfully distracting as the semester begins. Like a classic New England autumn, the maples create a spectacle and follow up with a heaping mess of fallen leaves - the transition is gorgeous.

While worrying about course-load, Peace Corps paperwork, and how to prepare for a 2-year experience in a developing country, I met a lot of great people juggling the same stresses. The geo MIs made up a tight but small group, so I enjoyed sneaking into the events/gatherings of the engineers and foresters. This was especially easy since my housemates were a wonderfully mixed lot: returned volunteers, aspiring volunteers, and adopted PCMI (yes, that's you Dhita). We weren't the only house near campus that focused so much PC power, the 900 House was another magnet for us. Theme parties (the '80s will never die), socials (Jack's movie selection was topnotch!), study sessions (oh GIS), a Thanksgiving extravaganza (special thanks to Matt's Mom&Dad!), Christmas tree management (Panchita and Dhita had a vision), and overflowing washermachine events remain fixed in my memory of domestic life.
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How new is my program? New enough that the first wave of students hadn't yet returned from Peace Corps service to defend their thesis. It was possible to email the far-field students, but it was a tough way to get an introduction; this meant that very bit of advice and quickly-typed explanation helped immensely. It's not possible to feel completely prepared for the upcoming experience, but certainly over the course of 2 semesters it's possible to adjust to what is "knowable" and "unknowable." For example...

Knowable:
1. When the PC invitation letter arrives, you will celebrate.
2. When the final exams are over, you will celebrate.
3. When the Spanish skit with ghosts and jungles ends, you will celebrate.
4. When your advisor says: we'll support you, you will celebrate.

Unknowable:
1. What country you will serve in.
2. What language you should practice.
3. What thesis topic you will develop.
4. When the PC assignment will arrive.

Important Lesson:
Know when to celebrate.

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Winter Carnival on Campus:
Too famous to brush over, too important to forget photos! I could fill up a webpage full of all of the photos I took - but I won't, the university is maintaining a perfectly good site here:
http://www.mtu.edu/carnival/gallery/
I didn't try broomball, but the MTU winter was great fun. Hockey games, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing (thanks for the invitation Jim!), ice skating (you got better Matt), shoveling, hot chocolate, snow sculpture-touring ... I feel pretty good about the winter semester. I could have done without the Calculus class, but I think we all knew that from the get-go._________________________________________________________________

During both semesters, it wasn't possible to stop mulling over what the next year abroad would be like. Above all possible questions the bothered me the most, I desperately wanted to know if my country of service would offer me volcanoes. I wasn't particularly bothered by the prospect of learning an obscure new language or if I would have to cross piranha-filled rivers someday in order to reach potable water; no, I had more serious concerns. Will I have a volcano to study? This was an "unknowable," a terrible, terrible "unknowable."

Since my geology program focuses on Central American geologic hazards, I felt very comfortable with the prospect of narrowing my mulling activities to 14 countries due south of the United States. Early in the Fall Semester, I took on a project that would appear to have no definite end: a webpage.

As an attempt to both brainstorm what my future work/world would be like, I began a site that could provide information about what volcanic conditions exist in both South and Central American countries. The scope was a bit ridiculous, but I adopted a plan to post what material could possibly help me while I volunteer in the "unknowable" country. We shall see just how helpful this proves to be! _________________________________________________________________

Peace Corps Details:
The application process is long and often painful for aspirants, but I believe that I was spared quite a bit of heartache. Not many complications existed with my forms: I applied to Michigan Tech in Dec. 2005 and didn't click "Send" to complete the Peace Corps online application until August 28th, 2006 before moving to campus. My official interview was held on campus sometime in November (then stretched to a telephone conversation) and the medical checkups happened fairly easily across the Portage. The acceptance letter showed up in December, the assignment details appeared in mid-March.

Mid-March, yes! This was fairly early but certainly felt far too drawn out at the time. Was the post a surprise? Yes to that as well.