Of Volcanoes, Dinosaurs and Alerts

(photo: H. Schirmacher)

Now it is raining.

But recently, our wonderfully green neighbor, Mt. Pichincha, was burned black in places. I was reminded of days a decade ago when news dinosaurs like myself would update radio listeners about news, weather, and natural phenomena. Tongue in cheek -- well somewhat anyway -- I tried to be a pundit. I explored the possibility of politics affecting nearly any situation. So from my files, here it is:

SMOKE AND MIRRORS - OCT. 1999

With just the right angle, a mirror outside our studio door should provide an "on-air" view of Quito's slowly erupting volcano, Guagua Pichincha.

Why take the trouble to install a vehicle rear-view mirror visible by the morning show host? During our October 7th show, Guagua belched a 15-kilometer high vapor cloud that dominated Quito's western sky. Learning of it, our morning team immediately went to air with observations on the volcanic explosion.

In the last 13 months, we've grown accustomed to --even tired of-- experts' descriptions of the volcano's seismic activity.

And we've debated on what drives the alerts system. Could the alerts serve as a diversion? Was the Yellow Alert (and a more recent Orange Alert) a ploy to divert people's attention from Ecuador's economic crisis? Nature's wrath or human sleight of hand? (So you see "Smoke and Mirrors" fits after all.)

"Since new protests and strikes are coming, they're going to announce new eruptions," Alberto, a computer technician, predicted as he read a newspaper in Quito's tourist district. The October 1998 Yellow Alert came just as Ecuador faced massive strikes. Coincidence? Nearly a year later, the Orange Alert came as Ecuador defaulted on Brady Bond interest payments.

Discussing the volcanoes, we say partly in jest -- and what part I don't really know -- "It's just political."

But we don't say it about Tungurahua volcano, a hundred miles away. It's issuing fairly constant ash columns and throwing out incandescent rocks -- some as large as pickup trucks. Authorities quickly evacuated the tourist resort of Baños. Experts say of Tungurahua, "It's one mean volcano."

Quite honestly, there is enough happening in Ecuador's economy and on the political scene, that “these things happen” even while Ecuador's volcanoes burp, spit and spew.

As our fragile democracy here confronts one crisis, then another, volcano alerts merely coincide with one more trudging step forward.

Well, the morning host,Jeff, has strung mic cables up to the roof. Today we gave news and sports, volcano observations and an interview from "up on the roof . . . uhh, that's the 'High Tech Volcanic Monitoring Station'," he says.

Of course, he has to set the record straight. Otherwise it would be just Smoke and Mirrors.

Shortcake, Shortwave, Short Night

Tim, Ian and Ralph witnessed the end of an era of great shortwave

broadcasts from Ecuador. September 30 was the official final day,

but some broadcasts will continue through mid November.

Ken writes, "Just stepping on the property one knew that it was a special place."

Others declared that it was holy ground.

Whatever a person's viewpoint, these 130 acres of rolling green fields with a spectacular view of the perfect snow-covered volcanic cone of Mount Cotopaxi to the south were a single point from which shortwave radio programs could be beamed to the four corners of the earth."

Read "From Ecuador to the World," about the decades of shortwave service from Pifo, Ecuador. Ken's reflective writing on the Pifo transmitter site is found here. (In Spanish here, and in German here.)

Ralph writes, "Why strawberry shortcake?" you say.

A bittersweet experience maybe? (Naturally tart, strawberries -- like news you don´t want -- must be appropriately sugared.)

But the reality is that shortcake just happened, or as we say in Spanish, por casualidad. Tim wrote, "Just found strawberries -- will have short cake."

It was a cellphone text message. Appropriately enough, I suppose. We adapt to new technologies . . . rapidly or with less enthusiasm as we hit the learning curve. This little getaway on Pifo closing night, September 30, was planned entirely by text messaging:
SUNDAY SEPT 27
"When can I come and talk about Wedsday?"

"Come by right now."

ONE DAY LATER:

"Ian McF to pifo w us. When back?"

EVENING OF SEPT 30:

"Please pick me up at the compound whenver ur ready."

"Could take me an hour to unplug."

"Ok no hurry."

"Tell him 9745 to Mexico is on."

When Tim wrote about the strawberries, I wrote back "nice".








After the official closing date of Pifo (Sept 30) several languages continue, with the final, final end of transmissions there in mid November. Details are found here.