Volcanes: Tienen nuestro respeto!! (You have our respect!!)

Never before have we had to flee from a natural disaster, however, this morning we were forced to leave Baños in a flash of fury. The song on Ryan´s Ipod couldn´t have been more appropriate than Dave Matthews´ ¨Lie In Our Graves, ¨ which was the first to appear on random shuffle as our bus left town.

Maybe we should have knocked on wood when we wrote the previous blog title ¨Mushroom Clouds, Mi Culo: Volcanoes Don´t Scare Us.¨

The Virgen de Agua Santa lived up to her name and helped us to escape a rumbling Baños minutes before the road that leads to Northern, Southern or Western Ecuador was closed. It all began around midnight when we awoke from a deep slumber to Bolivar, the hostal´s friendly night watchman, pounding on the puerta. He relayed to us the message blaring across all the radio stations: ¨The Volcano Tungurahua has increased activity and we need to get our clothes on and get ready to evacuate.¨ We scurried around the room to gather our most important things, before rushing to the hostels common area where we learned more about the situation at hand. Plumes of ash 10 km high (6 miles) and tremors that rumbled windows and doors were occurring over 30 times an hour. Roaring booms echoed between the surrounding mountainsides and struck fear in the eyes of everyone around us.

We spent the next two and a half hours deliberating as to whether or not we should join the masses of fleeing tourists and Baños residents. This was the first time we´d been faced with such a prospect. Should we run to the safety zone, only a few kilometers away or wait for the ¨official alarm¨ to evacuate? Probably against our better judgement, we decided to wait it out in our room with the light on, thereby avoiding doing the same thing at a shelter a mere 3 km away.

We closed our eyes and awaited a siren or a shower of rock and lava, whichever came first. Dozing intermittently between booms, Claire dreamt that we left town. Just the definitive answer we were looking for. By then it was 5 AM, and the explosions and booms had intensified. We rapidly packed our bags and checked out, saying goodbye to Bolivar, who admitted he was finally becoming fearful but felt it was his duty to stay put until all the tourists had either left town or were in the safety zone. He confided in us that in all his life spent in Baños, he had never heard such loud and constant booms from the volcano. Tungurahua first became active in 1999, after an 80-year lull, and had an equal size eruption in 2006, killing six people and displacing thousands.

This photo, taken today, shows the ash (not snow)
on the dangerous side of the volcano

We hurried through deserted streets towards the bus terminal to tremor rattling storefront doors, seemingly applauding our decision. From the bus terminal, we could see the flames and red clouds looming in the darkness just above the tiny town of Baños. The bus we boarded had no music playing as it usually does, and the air was filled with increasing tension, as we awaited police permission to drive the dangerous road which passes the deadliest side of the volcano. A road of ash and rubble from previous activity and landslides.

Finally, after demanding ¡Vamos! (Let´s Go!) in multiple languages, we were off and avoiding a 15 hr detour East and through the Orient. It was a tiresome ride but we arrived safely in Quito at 10:30 this morning, happy to be alive and not to have waited any longer to see what one of natures most powerful and unpredictable forces on the planet was going to do next. Ecuador´s President, Rafael Correa, has declared a 60-day state of emergency, which will allow 3 million dollars in aid for evacuees and residents. We only hope for our friends and the residents of Baños that all quiets down shortly. For more info Google: Tungurahua, Ecuador