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The World: Fire and Destruction

3 minute read
TIME

Not for nothing is Iceland called the Land of Ice and Fire: its glacial facade covers one of the most active volcanic regions in the world. In 1963, inhabitants of the tiny island of Heimaey, six miles south of Iceland, watched with some fear and fascination as an’ underwater eruption 14 miles away created a new island before their eyes. The island was later named Surtsey, after the Norse god of fire and destruction.

Last week the people of Heimaey awoke in the middle of the night to find that the Helgafell volcano, dormant for 5,000 years, had exploded on their doorstep. As the earth rumbled like thunder and showers of molten lava lit up the sky, villagers in night clothes poured into the streets to watch the terrifying spectacle. After one home was engulfed by boiling lava and hot ashes began to rain down on others, Heimaey’s 5,200 residents were ordered evacuated.

In a sort of mini-Dunkirk, fishing boats transported most of the island’s inhabitants to the mainland, where buses took them into Reykjavik. Hospital patients and the elderly were rescued by small planes and helicopters, which braved intense heat and volcanic ash to land at an airstrip only 200 yds. from the eruption. Within 3½ hours, everyone on Heimaey had been evacuated. About 200 police, firemen and rescue workers stayed behind to salvage what they could of Vestmannaey-jar, the island’s only town and Iceland’s most important fishing center. Miraculously, there were no casualties.

As eruptions continued to blast new craters in the earth throughout the week, prospects that the islanders could return any time soon looked dim. Geologists said that there was a possibility that the island — which is only 2½ miles wide by 4½ miles long—could explode and disappear entirely. Another possibility is that it may be covered by poisonous ash, which on some streets has already reached the tops of telephone poles.

Late last week TIME Correspondent Christopher Byron flew over the island and described this scene: “At a distance of 50 miles, the inky horizon shimmered with an eerie red glow. At a distance of five miles, fly ash and stones peppered the plane’s cockpit, making the sort of sound one hears when driving through a swarm of locusts. As we came still closer, fountains of flaming rock hurled up past us in the night, reaching heights twice that of the Empire State Building. The night turned from black to red, and the air smelled like sulfuric fumes from 100 billion burned-out kitchen matches. It was as if the twin-engine Piper aircraft were a mere gnat hovering at the open door of a blast furnace.”

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