Cold Open

It’s November 1984, at Nevado del Ruiz, a volcano in central Colombia.

A lone climber trudges up the mountainside. He’s been trekking for hours. The ice and snow, which permanently cap the volcano, challenge his every move. But the peak is tantalizingly close.

With a final burst of energy, the climber conquers the last stretch and stands atop the crater that marks the summit, almost 17,500 feet above sea level. A biting wind chills his exposed face, but it doesn’t take away from the magic of the moment.

He pauses, and sweeps his gazes over the vastness before him: the pristine snow-clad peaks of the Colombian Andes piercing the sky, and below, the fertile valleys hosting specks of settlements and the distant town of Armero.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, the climber's gaze settles on an anomaly: a wisp of mist curling up from the crater. Intrigued, he navigates the treacherous icy terrain for a closer inspection, and with each step, an odd hissing grows louder.

Drawing near, a realization hits him—this isn't mere mist. It's steam, rising from a crack in the ground, known as a fumarole—a volcanic vent letting out superheated gas. A chilling unease washes over the climber. He's been to this summit before, but he’s never seen this before.

A new fumarole atop Nevado del Ruiz isn't just a geological curiosity; it's a dire warning, and time is of the essence. The climber turns and begins his descent. Pushing aside his exhaustion and his dreams of a warm meal and rest, he knows his next duty: to urgently inform the authorities of this unsettling change.

The climber’s discovery at the summit of Nevado del Ruiz is the first warning of an imminent volcanic eruption. And even though almost a year will pass before it finally blows, the eruption of Nevado del Ruiz will still have a catastrophic effect on the local population. Tens of thousands of people will die, and many more will be left homeless by superheated rivers of volcanic debris sweeping down the sides of Nevado del Ruiz on November 13th, 1985.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is November 13th, 1985: The Nevado del Ruiz Eruption.

Act One

It’s March 1985, on Nevado del Ruiz, five months after indications of volcanic activity were spotted by a mountain climber.

John Tomblin follows in the climber’s footsteps, taking the same trail to the top of Nevado del Ruiz. Like the climber before him, John is used to exploring the summits of volcanoes. He’s a seismologist working for the United Nations Office of Disaster Relief, and his job is to judge the likelihood that volcanoes like Nevado del Ruiz will erupt.

John pulls a folder of papers from his backpack and begins circling around the crater, comparing the geology he can see with what’s recorded on charts and maps. John immediately spots the new fumarole, the one that the climber reported at the end of last year. But now, John realizes it is not the only one spewing steam and vapor. Several other jets shoot from cracks in the rock—and they’re much more powerful than what the climber described. Some of the steam clouds reach more than a hundred yards into the air.

John drops further down into the crater. He stops at a depression in the ground and checks his chart, his brow furrowing. This dip is also new. John measures the size of the pit, jots down a few notes, and scrambles out of the crater. He’s seen enough to make his mind up. The active fumaroles and the new pit in the crater are ominous signs that a volcanic eruption is imminent.

Back at his hotel, John writes up a report. He recommends that an emergency plan is devised to prepare for an eruption. He suggests that seismographs are put in place to measure the volcano’s underground movements. He wants a hazard map drawn up, showing the area’s most at risk from lava and debris flows. And in the settlements likely to be affected by an eruption, he suggests that warning and evacuation procedures are put in place and communicated to the local population.

After submitting his report to Colombia’s civic defense agency and his bosses at the UN, John leaves the country and moves on to his next assignment. But with nobody on the ground to ensure action is taken on John’s recommendations, little preparation happens over the next few months. John’s report becomes embroiled in red tape as the managers at different Colombian authorities disagree about who should fund the new seismographs and emergency plans. When local scientists step in and offer to set up the region’s only seismograph on Nevado del Ruiz, they discover the instrument is broken. And only after an international appeal for seismographs to be donated, does the required technology arrive.

Five months later, in August 1985, Bruno Martinelli visits the region to see what progress has been made. Bruno works for the Swiss Seismological Service, and his organization has volunteered its expertise for free. But Bruno grows worried almost as soon as he sets foot on the mountain. He checks the donated seismographs and finds that they have been poorly positioned. The data they’ve recorded so far is useless when predicting when the volcano might blow.

Bruno is still in Colombia one month later, when steam and gas suddenly shoot from the crater in far greater quantities than before. This steam escape—known as a phreatic eruption—lasts for seven hours. And It's not a good sign. Five years earlier, similar phreatic eruptions occurred on Mount St. Helens in the United States. And only a few months afterward, the mountain itself exploded in a devastating eruption.

With this latest indication that a spectacular eruption is imminent, Colombian scientists and officials are finally motivated to act. They begin to prepare a disaster response plan, and Bruno stays in the country to help with it. As he examines topographical and geological maps, it soon becomes clear that the biggest danger from an eruption will be lahars—superheated rivers of volcanic debris and mud. When Nevado del Ruiz does erupt, it seems likely that landslides will spur lahars to crash down the mountain, following the path of least resistance into the valleys, where they’ll drown entire communities in a tidal wave of mud. The authorities promise to set up alert systems to warn those in the shadow of the mountain when a lahar is expected.

And with all this in order, Bruno leaves Colombia. He’ll fly back to Switzerland, confident that authorities have finally done everything they can to limit the damage of an eruption. But when Nevado del Ruiz does blow its top, these carefully laid plans will be forgotten, and officials will fail to stop a devastating tragedy.

Act Two

It’s 3 PM on November 13th, 1985 in the town of Armero, two months after a phreatic eruption was spotted on Nevado del Ruiz.

13-year-old Omayra Sanchez looks up from her schoolbooks and stares at the clock at the front of the classroom, willing it to tick faster. She’s ready to go home, and with only a few minutes left in the school day, she’s unable to focus on her work any longer. 

When one of her classmates starts shouting, she’s happy for the distraction. But as the classmate points through the window at Nevado del Ruiz, Omayra and her entire class rush to the window. Gazing up at the mountain, Omayra sees that a huge cloud of steam is belching from the volcano’s summit.

The teacher waves the students back to their seats, telling them it’s nothing to worry about. Another phreatic eruption, just like the one that happened a few months ago. The teacher tells them to focus on their schoolwork. But by the time the class has settled back down, the bell has rung and the school day is over.

As Omayra walks home, none of the adults around her show any sign of concern. Instead, life goes on as usual. After her father returns home from working in the rice fields, Omayra and her family have dinner. Then, they all go to bed.

As Omayra’s family settles down for the night, the eruption of Nevado del Ruiz starts to escalate. Just after 9 PM, a magma eruption begins and molten rock spews out of the crater. The lava melts the glacier at the top of the mountain, and the combination of hot rock and glacial meltwater causes landslides at the summit. Within minutes, a dirty stream of molten rock and hot mud slides down the side of the mountain. The lahar slowly gains momentum as it increases in size, but the emergency procedure to warn residents in nearby towns and villages isn’t implemented.

Two hours later, at 11:30 PM, Omayra is awakened when she hears an unusual noise. It sounds like the roaring of an oncoming wave that doesn’t break. After a few moments, Omayra is rocked out of bed and the house around her collapses and plunges into a river of mud that swept around and through her home. She scrambles to grab something, finally finding parches onto a lump of concrete. She heaves her head and shoulders out of the mud—but she can’t move any further than that. She’s been covered by rubble.

After hours have passed, the first light of dawn begins to shine through a crack in the debris. Omayra hears muffled noises and sticks her hand through a crevice. After a few minutes, she hears a shout from above. Rubble is lifted away, and Omayra squints as her eyes adjust to the bright light. As she regains her sight, Omayra is shocked. The town of Armero has disappeared. Almost every building is gone, replaced by a thick river of mud.

Rescuers clear the rocks and concrete from around Omayra. And when they have enough room to maneuver, they grab her arms and pull. But they stop when Omayra screams in agony. Over the next few hours, the rescuers realize that her legs are trapped under a collapsed concrete wall. But the rescuers don’t tell Omayra that. Instead, they try to keep her spirits up. They give her soda to drink and candy to eat. They reassure her that she’ll soon be free. But the rescuers have no idea how they’re going to get her out. They don’t have the machinery to lift the concrete block, nor the medical equipment to amputate her legs.

So, over the next three days, Omayra talks and sings with a journalist who’s volunteered to help in the relief effort. But the longer she remains trapped, the worse her condition becomes. Omayra begins to hallucinate. Her hands turn white. And then, sixty hours after the lahar destroyed her house, Omayra dies.

She is not the only victim of the eruption of Nevado del Ruiz. Over 20,000 other people will be killed in the town of Armero, including Omayra’s father. Three thousand more will die in surrounding towns and villages.

A haunting photograph of Omayra, trapped in the rubble of her house, and captured by a photojournalist in her last hours will become a symbol of the authorities’ failure to predict and respond to the volcano. Investigations will reveal that rescuers had inadequate supplies and that evacuation warnings were not issued to at-risk communities before the lahars struck. Only in the aftermath of Nevado del Ruiz’s eruption will scientists and civil authorities learn to work together to ensure that a similar tragedy will not happen again.

Act Three

It’s 1:42 PM on June 15th, 1991 at Clark Air Base in the Philippines, six years after the eruption of Nevado del Ruiz.

Robert LaPointe, an airman in the United States Air Force, stands on what is normally a busy runway. But today, there’s no need to worry about any flights taking off or landing.

He pulls out a handheld camera and points it fifteen miles to the west at Mount Pinatubo. For the last three months, steam has vented from Pinatubo’s summit in a series of phreatic eruptions. Three days ago, the eruptions changed. Now, the sky is filled with ash as molten rock pours from the crater.

Robert raises his camera and takes a photo of the volcano and the enormous ash cloud rising from it. As he looks through his viewfinder, the top of the volcano suddenly begins to collapse. The ground shakes and the sound of the explosion reaches Robert’s ears seconds later. An alarm sounds across the air base, ordering everyone to take cover.

Within an hour of the collapse of Mount Pinatubo’s crater, surges of lava and ash reach the edge of Clark Air Base, destroying several seismographs. But thanks to the base personnel taking cover, nobody is hurt.

It’s a similar situation across the region. The inhabitants of villages and towns at the base of Mount Pinatubo received daily updates about the volcano’s threat level since it first displayed signs of an eruption. And prior to the eruption’s climax, 60,000 people were already evacuated from at-risk settlements.

By the time the ash settles at Mount Pinatubo, 847 people will be killed in the eruption with even more dying in the simultaneous arrival of a typhoon which collapses buildings already stressed by the weight of volcanic ash. But the death toll could have been far worse.

Tens of thousands more people may have died, had scientists and volcanologists around the world not learned harsh lessons in the aftermath of the Nevado del Ruiz eruption.

When Mount Pinatubo showed signs of an imminent eruption, the Philippine government did not want to repeat the recent mistakes of Columbian officials. Emergency plans were promptly drawn up, and evacuation orders reached residents in plenty of time. This saves countless lives in the Philippines. But unfortunately, this better understanding of emergency procedures will come too late for the 23,000 Colombians who died in the eruption of Nevado del Ruiz on November 13th, 1985.

Outro

Next on History Daily. November 14th, 1994. The first paying passengers depart London on a train taking them under the English Channel. 

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Scott Reeves.

Executive Producers are Alexandra Currie-Buckner for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.