Christmas morning in New Zealand is synonymous with mid-summer barbecues at the beach, deservedly lazy times, perhaps a bit of over-indulgence. That morning, in 1953, Kiwis were expecting to awaken to news of the Royal tour; the newly crowned Queen was doing the rounds of towns and countryside, perfecting that royal wave to flag-waving folk lining the streets. Instead, they awoke to the news of a train disaster near Mt. Ruapehu, one of three active volcanoes in central North Island; a railway bridge on Whangaehu River, near Tangiwai, had been washed out on Christmas Eve. Train carriages were strewn along the river banks, 151 people were killed. The culprit was a geological phenomenon known as a lahar. Continue reading
Of the two certainties in life, volcanoes offer the most excitement (death and taxes are basically the same thing). They are magnificent while asleep; a primeval ruggedness that stirs the imagination. We paint them, we eulogise them. And when they awaken, we run for cover. Whether in a state of dormancy or high agitation, they leave an impression on our inner and outer landscapes.
All active volcanoes emit gas; pre-, during and post-eruption. On average, 96% of volcanic gases are water vapour, the remaining components being CO2, SO2 (most common), plus a little helium, nitrogen, carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulphide, and a few halides. Volcano-derived carbon dioxide is frequently cited as a culprit for increasing atmospheric CO2 concentrations in Continue reading