Iceapelago

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © Peter Brennan (2020)

  All rights reserved. Peter Brennan has asserted his right under the Copyright and Related Rights Act 2000 to be identified as the author of this book. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved alone, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  ISBN (Print): 978-1-8380639-0-0

  ISBN (Ebook): 978-1-8380639-1-7

  For Clive, Rory, Martin, and Caitlin

  Contents

  Prologue: Arctic Foxes

  CHAPTER 1

  La Palma • Augusta, Georgia • Glencairn

  CHAPTER 2

  Faro de Fuencaliente • Summit Station • Galway Harbour

  CHAPTER 3

  Instituto Volcanológico de Canarias • The River Corrib • RV Celtic Explorer

  CHAPTER 4

  Roque de los Muchachos • Hotel Icefjord, Ilulissat • Holland 2

  CHAPTER 5

  La Cumbrecita • Sites ZX • PLU

  CHAPTER 6

  Reventon • Twin Otter • Eriador Seamount

  CHAPTER 7

  Observatorio Roque de los Muchachos • Qooqqup Kuua River • The Gulf Stream

  CHAPTER 8

  Pico Bejenado • Black Bush • Merrion Street

  CHAPTER 9

  Barlovento • Cobh • Tasiilaq

  Epilogue

  Prologue:

  Arctic Foxes

  The Arctic fox, an endangered species, is a hardy animal that survives in a frigid treeless environment. The tundra is not an easy place to live. It is barren, rocky and without much vegetation.

  The Arctic foxes’ pelts are the warmest of any animal found in the Arctic. Enduring temperatures as low as minus seventy degrees Celsius, the fur provides them with a consistent body temperature. In winter, they have a deep pure white fur coat that allows them blend into the tundra’s ubiquitous snow and ice. As it was late summer their coats were a mix of brown and grey. Patches of white fur hung from their delicate bodies like dreadlocks.

  Arctic foxes have furry soles and compact bodies to minimise the surface area exposed to the cold ground and air. Like a cat, the fox’s tail aids their balance as well as providing a warm covering in cold weather. They usually live in burrows and they tunnel into the snow if conditions get bad.

  The last of their litter had died of starvation several moon cycles ago as red foxes and grey wolves competed with them for a sharply declining supply of food. The waterfowl and other seabirds – usually easy prey – had flown south as temperatures plummeted to record low extremes. As the ice thickened into deep crusts the small invertebrates such as worms and snails also disappeared.

  Their trek south-east from Vindelfjällen in northern Sweden, where the skulk had lived for generations, had taken several months and had been a journey of necessity, one of survival. While some episodes of good hunting, usually for fish around shallow ice pools, had kept them alive, the crossing over the last flat-ice surface had been the most difficult.

  Deliberately, very deliberately, the male probed what remained of a gull’s nest with his right paw. His mate sniffed the bitter cold air and observed him with a keen sense of anticipation as they had not eaten for many days. The nest was barren like so many others in the area.

  Arctic foxes are so highly strung that an unexpected loud voice can cause them to die of fright. They have acute hearing with wide, front-facing ears that allow them to locate the precise position of their prey beneath the snow. Startled by a black crow, the male made a sharp kak-kak-kak-kak-kak, a sound more like a bird than a member of the canine family.

  A strong northerly wind drove light snow flurries that settled on the frozen rocky ground. The covering was more than half a metre deep, on a thin base of granite, slate and loose stones. If current conditions prevailed for much longer, their time was limited on this inhospitable island, unless they found winter shelter and a source of food.

  They would have to decide soon where they would set up an underground den for winter. The initial exploration of this rocky outcrop suggested that a sandier location was needed.

  They paused, huddled together and observed their surroundings from the base of the small quarry that provided some measure of relief from the fierce blizzard, which was building up on the eastern horizon.

  The sun was beginning to set over the dome of Killiney Hill in the southern suburbs of Dublin, on the east coast of Ireland. As the temperature slowly dropped they studied the outline of what remained of Dublin Bay with their piercing blue eyes. In the mid-distance, twin towers and isolated and abandoned high-rise office blocks were surrounded by a desert-like, rubble-strewn moonscape of flotsam melded into a fusion of frozen ice mud.

  Like the humans that shared this space, they would have to adapt to survive.

  The male decided they should walk across the ice to a snowy island hilltop in the distance that the humans called Howth.

  This was part of Ireland’s new landscape, its Iceapelago.

  CHAPTER 1

  La Palma

  ‘Come in, come in please.’

  Twin brothers Ros and Simon Rodriquez entered the spacious office of Luis Laffino, the Professor of the Geophysics Department at the University of Cádiz. He got straight to the point as soon as they sat down.

  ‘You have been successful in your applications for summer work at the Pico de la Nieve research centre on La Palma. Felicidades muchachos. To be honest with you, it wasn’t a difficult decision given your academic results and your knowledge of the island.’

  ‘But I thought that the research centre had been abandoned due to budget cuts?’ said Simon. ‘The last I heard the roof was leaking, equipment had been moved into storage and the broadband was disconnected.’

  ‘Well, eh, that was the case,’ said Professor Laffino, ‘but we got sponsorship at the last minute from the Instituto Geográfico Nacional. The faculty decided that giving you the opportunity of conducting experiments around the Caldera de Taburiente would help you both complete your doctoral studies. The Caldera has huge potential from the perspective of volcanic research. You two know the island’s geology and volcanic history more than most and certainly better than I do.

  ‘Professor, we’re delighted to accept your generous offer,’ said Ros, keeping eye contact with Simon.

  ‘Were any other student candidates successful?’ said Simon.

  ‘Yes, Maria and Claudine Marin-Rabella have also been assigned to La Palma but to the smaller research station near the Caldera de Teneguia on the south of the island. Do you know them?’

  ‘Simon may know Maria,’ said Ros with a knowing smile. Simon blushed red.

  The Professor moved to conclude the meeting.

  ‘I’ll ask the manager of the research centre at the Instituto to talk to you about the practicalities and logistics – and your stipend of course. You might discuss your project plan with him.’

  ‘Thank you, Professor. We won’t disappoint you,’ said Ros.

  ‘I know.’ He smiled in a grandfatherly way.

  The boys walked across the campus back to their rooms.

  ‘Maria will be on the island?’ said Ros.

  ‘I guess so. But she hasn’t yet been told,’ said Simon.

  ‘I hope you c
an manage your love life remotely. It’s a long way from Pico de la Nieve to the south of the island,’ said Ros.

  ‘We’ll easily manage on two hundred euro a week,’ said Simon, trying to change the subject.

  ‘That’s for sure. Shopping options are a bit limited where we are going,’ said Ros.

  ‘We’ve learned an awful lot at the Professor’s lectures but reading about volcanoes from a textbook is one thing: walking the calderas of volcanoes and doing real hands-on research is what I want to do,’ said Simon.

  ‘Me too, brother,’ said Ros. ‘While there hasn’t been any volcanic eruptions on the island for over eighty years, the dormant volcanoes do need to be monitored.’

  ‘Professor Laffino is right, the Caldera de Taburiente and its National Park are a perfect natural laboratory,’ said Ros.

  ‘Yeah, and Barcelona is a perfect football club,’ teased Simon.

  ‘Now that’s unfair, brother. Barça is the best. Just look at their track record since …’ said Ros.

  ‘… Johan Cruyff was appointed manager. I think I’ve heard that line before.’

  The twins were fascinated by the geology of Isla de la Palma, on the western edge of the Canaries Archipelago off the coast of Africa. It was one of the highest volcanic islands in the world, situated directly over a dormant magma plume – an upwelling of abnormally hot rock. Only a fraction of the volcanic island was visible above ground. As with icebergs, most of the base of the island was underwater – to a depth of almost four kilometres on the western flank. Submarine volcanic activity had played a major part in shaping the island’s jagged and mountainous landscape. The Caldera de Taburiente, an extinct shield volcano that was formed by three large overlapping volcanoes, dominated the centre and northern side of the island. In geological terms Isla De La Palma was young: a mere infant.

  It may have looked tranquil from sea level, but the twenty-kilometre-long ridge of the Old Summit (Cumbre Vieja) that ran along a north-south axis through the centre of the island had history. Covering some two-thirds of La Palma, the volcanoes along Cumbre Vieja had erupted on seven occasions over the past six centuries. La Palma was situated far from the edges of the tectonic plates that run into the mid-Atlantic (and further north to Iceland). However, the Canaries was an active zone. A sizeable submarine earthquake – 5.6 on the Richter scale – had been recorded between Tenerife and Gran Canaria in May 1989.

  Scientists started to take a keen interest in Cumbre Vieja in the 1980s as emerging geological evidence suggested there was a medium level of risk that, during a future eruption, a catastrophic collapse of the western side of the island could result in upwards of five-hundred square kilometres of rock – a volume the size of several football stadia – falling into the sea. The resulting tsunami would be likely to cause devastation over a large area of the eastern Atlantic seaboard of the United States, with twenty-five-metre-high waves hitting Florida some nine hours after the event.

  The huge landslide deposits off the shores of La Palma, and other Canary Islands, provided evidence that dramatic landslides of such a scale had happened in the distant past. Local geologists rebutted this scenario on the grounds that there was no evidence to substantiate such a claim. They produced contrary data to contest the ‘western flank collapse’ theory. They argued that the island is the least seismically active of the Canary Archipelago and decades of records maintained by the Instituto Geográfico Nacional attested to this fact.

  Given the risk profile of Cumbre Vieja, in 1997 a European funded research centre was set up on Pico de la Nieve, at the edge of the Caldera de Taburiente, with support from the Smithsonian Institute in Washington. The research was part of a wider global endeavour to assess the historical impacts of collapses of island volcanoes and the effects that volcanic eruption phases had on landslides. The aim was to build up a model of volcano activity on a par with what had been done for the Hawaiian Islands, another identified hot spot.

  Before the Rodriquez brothers travelled to La Palma, the erstwhile operations manager of the research centre, a grim academic who rarely moved far from his books, gave them minimal instructions with a degree of disinterest that he didn’t hide. His enthusiasm for the activities of the Pico de la Nieve research centre was commensurate to its funding, which was at a record low.

  It seemed clear that they were going to be left largely to their own devices during their four-month assignment. Being unsupervised was one of the main reasons why this summer job was so attractive.

  The brothers travelled to the Pico de la Nieve research centre a week after the end of the final semester.

  The research centre had the capacity to house ten resident scientists across two buildings. The complex also included two laboratories, work benches, a small living room and a kitchen. Over the years, poor maintenance, combined with high annual rainfall levels and cold harsh winter temperatures, had led to the deterioration of the fabric of the buildings. They spent the first few days carrying out essential repairs, reconnecting the broadband and making the centre habitable.

  As a compensation of sorts for its lack of creature comforts, the site commanded stunning views of the island’s National Park, some thousand metres below. Access to the stony outcrop where the research centre was located was by footpath, an hour’s trek through the pines and broom from the main road that ran the length of the Caldera.

  The routine of volcanic observation demanded patience and a strong self-discipline and that was why the Rodriquez brothers had been chosen to man this remote research centre.

  They were not identical twins in terms of looks but had an identical sense of purpose. They were reliable, diligent and most importantly supportive of each other in their shared love of science. Their inherent inquisitiveness had drawn them to the behaviour of volcanoes and their well-honed research skills meant they were well qualified to help predict the one remaining geophysical mystery that had defied generations of scientists.

  They had a deep love of life: carpe diem was the mantra that had been drilled into them by their Jesuit teachers. They were gregarious, relaxed and appreciated the optimum work–life balance without being too dogmatic about it.

  Over the following weeks they installed nearly twenty remote sulphur dioxide gas detectors around the base of the National Park and beside the known vents around the Caldera de Taburiente. After water vapour, sulphur dioxide is the most abundant gas found at the surfaces of volcanic activity. They monitored how much of the gas arrived at the surface with their improved test devices, which could detect the slightest readings and transmit the data to the monitors at the Pico de la Nieve research centre. This meant that there was no need for a physical inspection once the devices were installed. These devices were prototypes – adaptations of old models – that the brothers had designed and built during their studies in university. As a consequence, they were eager to put them to the test in a live environment and, more importantly, to see if their inventions could perform to the technical specifications that were set.

  In addition, over a period of ten years, many somewhat out-of-date seismic detectors had been placed close to the volcanic peaks of the Caldera de Taburiente by previous groups of summer students. They were located close to known areas of seismic activity. These too had to be monitored on a regular basis.

  In installing the gas detectors, the brothers took full advantage of the hiking trail called GR (Grand Route) 131, the island’s renowned 72kilometre long walking trail, which starts at the Faro de Fuencaliente lighthouse on the south coast and rises 3,600 metres to the crest of Somada Alta on the western side of the Caldera de Taburiente. While only four kilometres directly opposite the Pico de la Nieve research centre as the crow flies, it was a half-day’s walk to Somada Alta over zigzag mountain paths with views that gave even those with no vertigo cause to reflect. At certain points there was a sheer drop of almost 1,000 metres. To the south and along the eastern edge of the Cal
dera the mountain range extended some twenty kilometres to Pico Bejenado. The terrain, while offering some of the best mountain scenery in Europe, was rugged and steep. An ideal location for mountain goats and ambitious young scientists.

  On most days the Rodriquez bothers were above the cloud cover. From the Atlantic, thin white clouds raced up the front of the cliff face of the Caldera and spun off the rim falling as drizzling rain. As a consequence, it was cold and often wet. And when it rained at altitude, being out in the open was only for the brave. Even if the very brave (and foolish) wore their designer rain gear they got saturated. In contrast, the temperature at sea level was over thirty degrees Celsius in the summer; it was less than half that at altitude on a good day. It was also extremely windy at that height. Walking anywhere near the unprotected rim of the Caldera was both stupid and dangerous.

  In short, the weather was totally unpredictable. As a result, it was necessary for the brothers to have clothing and equipment that worked best in rapidly changing conditions, from gale force winds in bright sunshine to calm in a total downpour of cold rain.

  The daily chores were to take the readings, log them, analyse the data and pass on the material to the smaller research station near the Caldera de Teneguia. Here sisters Maria and Claudine Marin-Rabella did similar work in monitoring the inactive volcanoes of Cumbre Vieja located to the south of the island. They had the added responsibility of coordinating readings from other volcanic research centres on the nearby islands of La Gomera and El Hierro. The girls were in first and second year at the same University. They too were keen scientists.

  Maria, the younger of the two by a year, had started to date Simon a few weeks before they were all assigned to work on La Palma.

  Simon didn’t think of himself as attractive to girls. While he liked walking, he shunned more athletic sports so was somewhat heavier than Ros. His uniqueness was his outgoing personality. He could talk to anyone and he did – all the time. When Maria appeared at one of his tutorials, he was struck dumb for a change. This took him by surprise. By the time the second tutorial was scheduled they were holding hands, both smitten. No need for Tinder or other dating apps: lots of coffees and torta in the cafes of Cadiz in between lectures did the business. They were love birds by any reckoning.