UP JUMPED THE DEVIL

Paricutin, 1946. Photograph by K. Segerstrom, U.S. Geological Survey.

Paricutin is in central Mexico, a geographic band known for volcanoes that stretches 700 miles from the Pacific Ocean to the Caribbean Sea. Home to Mexico City, Puebla, and Guadalajara, it was once a peaceful backwater, its gently rolling hills creating one of Mexico's loveliest landscapes. On Feb 20, 1943, all this was about to change.

Dionisio Pulido was readying his fields for spring sowing. Throughout the past 2 weeks ominous rumblings had been heard as the ground whispered and grouched. Just the day before, Pulido's little village had been visited by some 300 earthquakes leaving the farmer and his neighbors ill at ease. Now as he idled nervously in the sunlight a 150-foot fissure tore open his field with a thundering vibration from deep beneath the soil. Trees trembled and shook as the astounded farmer watched his field give birth to a 7 foot bubble. The stink of sulfur, and a loud and continuous whistle foretold the escape of a fine tendril of ash. The farmer watched its slow spiral into the air and scurried to unyoke his ox teams. Over in the neighboring village of San Juan church bells began to ring by themselves, providing an eerie accompaniment to the restless countryside. People worried about the end of the world, the wrath of God, or a visit from the Devil. When Pulido cautiously returned to his fields the following day a dome of 30 feet had risen into the air hurling out rocks like an angry school boy. By dusk the growing, growling monster had reached 120 feet and throughout the night fireworks decorated the blackened canopy above as steaming lava began to snake its way across the cornfields.

Paricutin, as it came to be called, continued to contort and snarl and hiss throughout its birth year. The cone of the volcano grew to 1100 feet. Intermittent explosions sounded across the state. Lava climbed relentlessly toward the rim of the crater, fountained into the sky and spilled cruelly across fields and valleys. Ash snowed down on Mexico City 200 miles away and all the green and growing vegetation in-between.

In early fall a new vent exploded at the base. By year's end San Juan and Paricutin were completely destroyed by the bellowing volcano. Citizenry for both had been earlier moved to the new town of Caltzontzin to build lives on land assigned by the government. Though the villagers lost their land, their livestock and the lifestyle they grew up with, no lives were taken.

Geologists flocked to this newest volcano recognizing their rare opportunity. Around the world, volcanic eruptions are commonplace, but the emergence of an entirely new volcano, with a distinct vent opening on the earth's surface brings information sure to excite any geologist. Through first hand observation volcanologists came to understand the building and collapse of the gaseous dome, saw lava flows collect and grow and disperse into a 10 square mile distribution. Though its progress eventually slowed to a creep the monstrous river skulked along for the next 8 years while the central cinder cone rose to 424 meters. Ash filtered down sporadically, performing a silent burial of rooftops and roads, farms and fields and flora. Textbooks would thereafter refer to this newest volcano of the Western Hemisphere as the Seventh Wonder of the Natural World.

The young upstart's first year was its worst but during its final 6 months of activity in 51-52, the snarling explosions again became frequent, violent and desperate. Perhaps she knew her energy was waning. Finally satisfied with her romp through history, Paricutin hiccoughed one last major spasm, and sank into dormancy.

Article researched and written by L Cecotti