The Crater Of Death

By Dick Thompson

As Stanley Williams now tells it, he knew there was danger in leading an expedition of scientists into the throat of the Colombian volcano known as Galeras. After all, it was one of the most active in South America, with a history of violent eruptions dating back to the Spanish conquistadores. But the mountain seemed calm that fateful morning in January 1993 when Williams and 11 other volcanologists hiked over Galeras' rim to take its pulse--measuring tiny fluctuations in tilt, gravity, gas emissions and other signs of volcanic life. The scientists and a handful of tourists were spread out across the crater, just starting to head back, when a small landslide signaled the start of something bad.

"I yelled to get everyone out," recalls Williams. The scientists scrambled for safety, but it was too late. The earth ripped apart with a sonic boom. Lava bombs as big as cars were blown out of the crater and fell back as molten rain, exploding on impact like mortar shells, ripping through bodies and setting them on fire. Two scientists were instantly vaporized. One was literally cut in half. The exploding mountain shot a nickel-size hole through Williams' skull, mangling his face, setting his clothes afire, breaking one leg and nearly tearing the foot off the other.

But Williams lived and has often been described in the press and on the lecture circuit as the eruption's sole survivor. Nearly everybody in the small world of professional volcanologists, however, knew this to be untrue--in fact, five other people also came out of Galeras alive that day--and for years some of Williams' fellow scientists quietly criticized him both for leading the ill-fated field trip and then for capitalizing on its tragic aftermath.

Now that reservoir of bitterness is about to erupt with the nearly simultaneous publication of two books that describe the same incident from perspectives that couldn't be more different. In No Apparent Danger, reporter Victoria Bruce documents what she says are warning signals Williams missed, safety precautions he failed to take and grandstanding opportunities he seized. Williams tells his own story--and defends himself against his critics--in Surviving Galeras, co-authored by Fen Montaigne. Taken together, the books provide a vivid account of how the people who study volcanoes do their dangerous work.

The story starts in 1988 when, after 40 years of quiescence, Galeras began a fresh round of unrest that brought Williams and other scientists running to southern Colombia. Because Galeras hovered just a few miles above the city of Pasto (pop. 300,000), the U.N. put the volcano on its list of natural hazards in need of urgent attention. After shaking and coughing small eruptions for months, Galeras squeezed a plug of lava onto the surface that it blew apart in a dramatic eruption on July 16, 1992. Given the mounting activity, Williams had no problem enticing volcano experts from 14 countries to attend a Galeras workshop that he organized in January 1993. The scientists' goal, as always in volcanology, was to learn enough to be able to predict the behavior of one of geology's most unpredictable beasts.

After two days of scientific talks in a Pasto hotel, the geologists interrupted their meeting for morning field trips around and into the volcano. By early afternoon, geologists taking measurements and samples were scattered across the floor and steep rim of the volcano's crater when the mountain blew.

Miraculously, six scientists came out of the eruption alive. Almost immediately, some of the survivors began blaming Williams. They charged that he was cavalier about safety precautions and didn't require anyone to wear hard hats or flame-retardant clothing. Williams says he wasn't about to impose a dress code on his colleagues.

The survivors also said Williams should have been aware of a unique seismic pattern known as a tornillo, which had been suggested as a precursor of Galeras eruptions and which, in fact, showed up on monitoring equipment the morning of the fatal field trip. Williams says no one brought it to his attention and none of the other indicators showed anything abnormal.

Finally, many colleagues were astounded that Williams allowed himself to be repeatedly portrayed as the sole survivor. Williams acknowledges that he failed to correct misinformed reporters.

Williams says he wrote his book as an exorcism, but with Bruce's book rushed into print at the same time, the demons are sure to be reawakened. Even reporting the book was painful, Williams says. At one point, he interviewed one of the widows, herself a geologist. She blamed Williams for her husband's death and blasted him as irresponsible. "There had to have been signs," she tells him in boiling anger. "You just missed them, that's all...It was just stupid that he died." Readers of both books--and they should be read together--will reach their own conclusions. Galeras, meanwhile, continues to rumble restlessly.